


i like my body when it is with your body

by greenforsnow



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Bisexual Merlin (Merlin), Drinking, Drunk confessions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Gay Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gwaine Being Gwaine (Merlin), Hand-wavy academia, Hand-wavy magic, M/M, Magical Tattoos, Minor Gwaine/Percival (Merlin), Minor Gwen/Morgana (Merlin), Misunderstandings, PWP that accidentally got plot, Practice Kissing, Uther being a bad dad, basically everything is hand-wavy except for Feelings, slight praise kink, very light Dom/sub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:33:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27966872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenforsnow/pseuds/greenforsnow
Summary: Merlin and Arthur meet as postgrads and learn about kissing, magic, and maybe even how to talk about their feelings.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 32
Kudos: 91
Collections: Merlin Holidays 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vampdocx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vampdocx/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For vampdocx, who gave me many fun prompts. I ultimately decided on: “University AU. Neither of them have ever kissed anyone, so they start practicing with each other and they get... a little too into it.” And like Merlin and Arthur I also… got a little too into it and this was the result. I had a lot of fun crafting this around your likes. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Thank you to my lovely beta [delgaserasca](https://archiveofourown.org/users/delgaserasca/pseuds/delgaserasca) who performed some much needed magic with this piece (all mistakes that remain are my own) and to the mods for all their work in running this fest.

* * *

i like my body when it is with your  
body. It is so quite new a thing.  
Muscles better and nerves more.  
i like your body. i like what it does,  
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine  
of your body and its bones, and the trembling  
-firm-smooth ness and which i will  
again and again and again  
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,  
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz  
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes  
over parting flesh… And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you so quite new

e.e. cummings

* * *

“I’m pretty sure they are going to have books at university. Pretty sure that’s one of the things they’re known for. Do you really need all these?”

Merlin looked over at Will who was sitting on his bed next to a box that was overflowing with books. He disentangled himself from the pile of jumpers he was folding in order to examine the box. 

“All of these are important,” Merlin said, with a considering frown. He picked up the book on the top of the teetering pile, and ran his hand over the cover, butter-soft and worn from use. 

Will rolled his eyes, and flopped back down on Merlin’s bed. “I can’t believe you’re going to be gone in two days.”

Merlin’s gut tightened with excitement and nerves. It still didn’t seem real, that in three days time he would be waking up somewhere that wasn’t his cramped room, and looking out a window to a landscape that wasn’t the familiar fields and woods of Ealdor. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Will asked.

Merlin worried his bottom lip between his teeth. That was the question, wasn’t it? He turned back towards Will who had sat up again, and was tossing a pen from hand to hand, his face carefully schooled in a casual expression. 

“Well, I’m bringing a small bookshelf. They should all be able to fit on that, and if not I can put them on my desk.”

“ _Merlin_ ,” Will said, with a half-exasperated sigh, “I just mean, you’re still a menace around here. What’s gonna happen when you’re unleashed on the rest of the world?” The joking spark in his eyes faded as he finished the question. Merlin laughed uneasily. 

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea. Your magic is barely under control. Even Gaius says—”

“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t need to get the whole town’s approval to go away to uni then isn’t it?” 

Will sighed - the sigh of someone who had been putting up with Merlin’s bullshit for years. “Look, just don’t expect me to come when they find you out and put you in some freak show performing tricks for a couple of quid.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t. You’ve seen all my tricks already, for free.”

Will threw a pillow at him, and Merlin’s face softened. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

“You better be.”

Merlin had been repeating that for months now. To his mother, to Gaius, to Will, to Freya. The four people who knew about his magic. He wasn’t sure if he could convince them. He wasn’t sure if he was even convinced himself. He was going head-first into uncontrolled circumstances, and he never knew how his magic would react. He’d be living in the city, with his friends Gwen and Gwaine - neither of whom knew the truth about his magic. Even if he lost control at home, it wouldn’t be good.

Learning to control his magic had been hard - like tying tight knots around all of the parts of himself that wanted to connect with the world around him. There had been a series of close calls that made it clear to his mother that it was necessary. She hadn’t wanted to - she could see the way it hurt him, but Merlin had known even then she had only been trying to protect him. Since then, he’d been so careful, double-checking locks and blinds, shutting himself in dark rooms, and squeezing his eyes shut until the currents of bright energy stopped threatening to spill from his fingers, biking away from town until his legs and lungs burned, and releasing it into air around him until he was spent and shaking. 

He knew he couldn’t do that once he moved to the city. He knew he’d have to work harder to keep it in check. Maybe he _was_ being selfish. But, Lord, he wanted this. To study magic. To be surrounded by people dedicating their lives to understanding it. He had listened to Gaius while he was getting his undergrad; he hadn’t taken any classes that were related to magic. He’d taken history courses that touched on it, and literature classes that had a few books by magical authors. But now, the opportunity to study under Morgause, one of the most-respected magical scholars in the world - just thinking about it sent excitement surging through him, bringing with it a wave of magic that Merlin could feel burning on his fingertips. He bit the inside of his cheek hard, and stuffed his hands in his pockets so as not to prove Will’s point. He could do this. He just needed to find ways to let it out where no one would see. And not feel any strong emotions. That would be easy. Merlin rolled his eyes at himself and bit down harder on his cheek until the feeling faded from his fingers, and he could safely get back to packing.

* * *

In retrospect, Arthur really should have told his father sooner. He knew it was only a matter of time before the press found out his plans for his post-grad. And yet, he continued to eat breakfast with his father every morning, went riding with him once a week, and stood next to him at countless boring events without sharing the news. Now, he stared at a crumb of toast stuck in his father’s beard as he yelled, and tried to imagine if this would have gone better if he’d told him himself. 

Probably. Uther did not like being kept in the dark. Or being made a fool. Which is what he was claiming Arthur had done.

“Not only did you not inform me that you were going to abandon all the groundwork we laid together, what you are throwing it all away for is to work with some magic-loving radical. She would have the entire royal line wiped out if she could, do you realise that?”

Arthur kept his head bowed. Eyes on the ground. Dr. Morgause had some radical ideas, sure, but she had a lot that made a lot of sense to Arthur - even some of the more radical ones, if he were being totally honest. 

“It’s a doctorate in Policy, father,” Arthur said.

“It doesn’t matter what the degree is called. This witch is famous for espousing her fanatical pro-magic beliefs.” Uther slammed the tabloid that had broken the headline down on the table. There was a picture of Morgause standing under a giant ‘Magic Users Unite’ banner, screaming into a megaphone. Arthur looked back up at Uther, whose face softened slightly. “Arthur, if you had wanted to continue your studies, you should have come to me. We would have discussed it, and come up with a plan. Found you someone suitable to study under. But we cannot allow you to do this.”

Arthur felt the walls closing in. This was the first time in a long while that he had something that he really _wanted_ \- something he had chosen for himself, not with a team of advisors and a PR expert weighing in. He straightened, and made sure to look Uther in the eyes before he spoke. “This is the choice that will allow me to better help my people. All of my people.”

There was anger clear and bright in Uther’s eyes, and something that Arthur would have called fear in anyone else. 

“You are a naive child,” he said firmly. 

Arthur swallowed, and took a deep breath. “I am going to do this. It’s just a matter of whether it turns into a public row between us, or you agree, and we take the time to work out a public statement that works for both of us.”

Uther sat, and Arthur knew he’d won.

The next few hours were a blur of negotiations. In the end, Uther agreed to most of what Arthur wanted. He would have a flat of his own near the university, he would be able to speak publicly about his studies, as long as he cleared his statements with the team first, and most importantly, he was allowed to enroll. He practically ran out the door after it was all over, and walked until he reached the gardens. He was wondering if victory against his father had always been possible, when Morgana startled him out of his reverie.

“I didn’t think you had it in you, little brother,” she said. He didn’t know how she managed to sneak up on him on crushed gravel wearing spiked heels, but that was only one of many mysteries about his sister. 

“And what is that?”

“I’ve never seen Uther this angry. Well. At someone who isn’t me, at least. Is it possible _I’m_ going to be the favourite child?”

Arthur let out a huff of humourless laughter. “By all means,” he said, “please, take my place.”

Morgana gave him a long look before saying, “I’m proud of you.”

The earnestness in her voice was foreign, and it made Arthur squirm. 

“I am upset that I had to find out about this from Morgause. I know we have a tendency to keep secrets in this house, but God, Arthur, I could have helped.”

“I wanted to do it on my own. Needed to.”

Morgana smiled at him. “I think I get that.” 

Arthur knew that his fight with his father wasn’t over. Not really. His eyes slid back towards the window of Uther’s study. 

“Don’t worry,” Morgana said. “I’m sure Uther will get over having two career academics in the family.” 

Arthur lifted a brow at her. “Just because the only thing you’ve got from your degree is a desire for more degrees, doesn’t mean I’m not going to do something productive with mine.” 

Morgana hit him softly in the chest with the back of her hand. 

“All right,” she said, “I’m going to prove my generosity of spirit, and still help you even after that insult. We’re going to mine for dinner. I’m not letting you self-flagellate by going back in there while he’s in this state.”

“I’m sure that’s out of the kindness of your heart,” Arthur said, “No ulterior motives,” but he followed her out of the garden anyway. 

* * *

In general, Merlin tried to keep an open mind, which is why he hadn’t made any judgements when he’d found out that Prince Arthur had also been selected as a doctoral candidate in the Magical Sociology and Anthropology department. Yes, he was the son of the man who had ushered in an era of the most restrictive and violent regulations against magic use in all of Europe. Yes, he usually seemed like a bit of a prat in his interviews. But Arthur himself had never spoken publicly about his views on magic nor the laws his father had championed that restricted magic use to regulated entertainment and nothing else. So Merlin was going to give him a chance.

But that didn’t mean he had to fall over himself when he walked into class late like everyone else did. 

It’s not like Merlin had been rude. Maybe he rolled his eyes when Arthur introduced himself. And maybe glared a bit. Perhaps Arthur just expected people to love him immediately and was taken aback when Merlin didn’t follow suit. But whatever it was, it was clear that Arthur had little patience for him.

A week or so passed, and it had been days since Merlin had used any magic. He was trying to follow Gaius’ instructions. He’d been so careful, but he could feel the energy thrumming just below his skin. During his Magical Expression in the Neoclassical Era lecture, his pen kept floating out of his grip, trying to take notes autonomously. No one had seen. But Merlin knew it was only a matter of time before something more serious happened. The day had started with Gwaine trying and failing to fix the hot water heater in their flat. Gwen probably would have been able to do it, but she was already at the studio. They’d been out of Bakewell tarts at his favourite cafe, which had been the only thing that day that he had been looking forward to. Gaius had called him to remind him of all of the dangers that exposing his magic could pose, and kept him on the phone for Merlin’s entire break between his afternoon classes. 

The unexpected raindrops that started to fall as he was walking from his lab were the last straw. He’d left his umbrella at home, and was carrying six rare volumes that he had spent hours convincing the archivist to let him borrow. The perfect ending to an utterly shit day. He could feel the strands of magic hot and burning in his hands - could feel them reaching up into the atmosphere, about to do something dramatic, and showy, and definitely against the rules that Gaius had set. Instead, he ran into the nearest building, slamming the door to the nearest empty classroom he could find, carefully placing the stack of books on a desk before letting out a scream. The lightbulbs shattered, and he had to dig his hands into his thighs to stop himself from tearing apart the whole room. Once the wave had passed, he leaned against the desk, still feeling ablaze, but slightly more in control. Maybe if he just… used it a little bit, it would be better. Less volatile. If he was cautious. Only did small things. 

He looked down at his boots, and tried to lift the water droplets away from the leather. They lifted a few inches before evaporating into a violent burst of steam. Merlin took a deep breath, and tried again. He went slower this time, and soon the water from his coat and hair rose to join the ones from his boots, creating a static wall of rain in front of him. He lifted his hand higher, delighted to see the water follow his movement. Spinning, he let the beaded liquid surround him in a immobile whirlpool. The anger and anxiety seemed to bleed out of him with each surge of magic. A twist of his thoughts, and they spun moving until they created a whale, a bird, a dragon, a—

 _Thud_. 

Merlin spun, his magic shrinking back to a tight, hot ball in the pit of his stomach, coated in dread. The water, unfortunately, followed his lead, spinning quickly, and shooting across the room towards the source of the noise. Which was… Arthur Pendragon. The fucking Crown Prince. Of course. 

Arthur was standing near the door, a thick book fallen at his feet, his eyes wide with something between shock and rage, and now, completely drenched with water - water he had undoubtedly seen Merlin fling across the room. Using magic. Magic that he now knew Merlin possessed. When Gaius told him it was imperative that no one find out about the magic he held, he was pretty sure that included the Prince of Wales. _Shit_.

Apologies and excuses raced through Merlin’s mind. “Don’t you knock?” Was what came out instead. 

Arthur laughed. Not a jovial happy laugh. Not that sweet golden laugh and bright smile Merlin had seen Arthur give Morgana. An affronted, cold, disbelieving laugh. He stepped towards him, all broad shoulders and scowl.

Merlin straightened his back, and set his jaw. He could tell Arthur expected him to shrink back and apologise. He wasn’t going to give in that easily though. 

“Pardon me?” Arthur’s tone was spiked with danger.

“Don’t you knock? You just come barging into rooms like you own the place?”

“You just threw water at _me_ , and you think you have the right to be indignant here? Maybe you should lock the door next time if you’re so concerned about someone walking in whilst you’re… doing magic?” Arthur’s eyes sharpened, and then turned questioning. Merlin’s stomach tightened. Shit. “You were doing magic. That was… a lot of magic.”

“No!” Merlin stepped closer, not entirely sure of his plan, panic dulling any critical thinking. “I don’t know what you think you saw, but clearly it was some kind of rain-induced psychosis.”

“Rain-induced psychosis? All right, Merlin. This has been unpleasant, as always.” Arthur turned back towards the door. 

Merlin’s magic reached out before he could stop it. The door slammed shut. Arthur whipped back around to look at him.

“You can’t go.”

“I can’t go? Are you daft? Do you realise who you are talking to?”

“Listen, this is my biggest secret. No one is meant to know. Especially not someone like you.”

Arthur raised a single eyebrow, and shook the doorknob. “I’m pretty sure this counts as treason,” he said in a calm voice that somehow infuriated Merlin more.

“It’s not treason!” Merlin insisted. 

“You’re holding me captive. Granted, I have lawyers whose job it is to remember the particulars of these types of situations, but I’m pretty certain that holding the prince captive counts as treason.”

“I’m not holding you captive. I just-- you can’t leave like that. I can’t have you walking out knowing this.”

“So then, what do you suggest?” 

“All right. You owe me a secret,” Merlin said.

“What?” Arthur spluttered slightly, and Merlin grinned despite himself. 

“You know my biggest secret. I’m not letting you walk out this door until I have some sort of collateral. An equal secret.”

“Don’t be absurd. One of my secrets is hardly equal to yours. You could sell mine, and then never have to work a day in your life just living off the proceeds.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, and opened his mouth to protest, but Arthur cut him off.

“And I’m not being arrogant, or pompous, or whatever insult you were about to throw at me, Merlin. That’s just a fact.”

“What I was going to say was that if I wanted to make an easy living and fast money, do you really think that I’d be getting a doctorate in Sociology?”

Arthur sat down in the chair by the door and shrugged. “Touché.”

“Come on, this is an easy way to end this. Just one secret,” Merlin said.

“And I don’t suppose my word is good enough for you?” Arthur asked. When Merlin didn’t respond, he sighed. “All right. When I was four or five, I was confused about my family, and as a result, spent the year telling people that Morgana was my mother.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “That’s not a secret; that’s an endearing childhood story. Try again.”

“I believed that dragons were real until I was thirteen. I had a stuffed dragon that I talked to—” “I’m just going to say right now that no cute childhood stories count.”

“Fine, I told everyone that I broke my arm falling off a horse, but I actually broke it during dancing lessons.”

“I think I read that in your Tiger Beat interview in 2004. Try again.”

A half-a-dozen rejected half-secrets later, Merlin was beginning to wonder how someone who had lived his whole life in the public eye didn’t have a single good secret to trade. 

“I once put laxatives in my uncle’s tea,” Arthur said.

“And I once turned my godfather’s date into a giant snail. Not big enough.”

Arthur paused, schooling the smile from the corner of his lips. “You’re going to tell me the rest of that story someday. All right. I— I’ve never kissed anyone.”

“Oh, well, now you’re just lying. That’s not fair.”

“I’m not lying!”

“I mean,” Merlin let his eyes rake over Arthur’s form deliberately, “look at you.” 

Arthur smirked.

“That’s not a compliment, it’s an objective fact,” Merlin quickly corrected. It was. 

“Being attractive doesn’t automatically mean one has been kissed.”

“But, you’ve dated people. I know you have. There’s always some new article showing you out to dinner, or a show, or horseback riding with some lady or the other.”

“Tabloids really aren’t the best source of news, you know,” Arthur said. “My father has a habit of bringing around whomever he feels is a suitable candidate for me. I just happen to have a different idea of what ‘suitable’ entails, and it isn’t rich, titled ladies. Or, at least, not all of those things.”

Arthur was a bit flushed along those square cheekbones and Merlin was momentarily distracted trying to figure out what exactly Arthur meant before he remembered the reason for this conversation. “All right, I believe you. But that still doesn’t count as a secret. I’ve never kissed anyone either.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows. “You don’t have to lie to make me feel better about it.”

“I’m not lying!” Merlin protested. “Do you really think my goal here is to make you feel better?”

Arthur paused, considering it. “No, I suppose not. Well then, why haven’t you?”

“I mean, I grew up in a small town,” Merlin said, “and it was just me and a couple of others, WIll and Freya. We were kind of weird, I suppose, so most other people kept their distance. I guess I had a crush on both of them at some point, but I didn’t want to risk messing things up with my only two friends. Then, at uni, I was either studying, or taking care of my mum. It never seemed like a priority,” Merlin shrugged, and shut his mouth. Arthur didn’t need his whole life story. 

Arthur was looking at him like he wanted to ask him something, but wasn’t sure how. Merlin sat waiting until Arthur shook his head. “Look, I’ve given you about twenty secrets. Surely that’s enough.”

Merlin relented. “Fine, you can go. Just, please. You can’t tell anyone.”

Merlin expected a joke. He expected Arthur to tease him again. But the look on his face was sincere and open. “I won’t,” he said, and then exited the room.

* * *

Arthur expected Merlin to protest when Morgause informed them they would be working together to conduct field interviews during the Iseldir Fair. Merlin clearly wasn’t his biggest fan. Not that Arthur was so keen on him, either. He was rude, and never quite knew when to shut up, and had the most irritatingly-distracting, long, elegant fingers that Arthur— did not need to be thinking about right now. Instead of protesting, Merlin nodded respectfully, a slight tension in his jaw causing his ridiculously-sharp cheekbones to stand out even more - that was the only sign of any unhappiness at the announcement. 

Arthur didn’t want to be the one to protest, so he just listened intently as Morgause reviewed the interview questions she had already established, and informed them they would need to do some research about the history of the fair, and its role in advocacy and policy changes in order to come up with a few questions of their own. 

They agreed to meet weekly in the library, but soon their weekly meetings became more frequent. Merlin didn’t like to study at his flat because apparently one of his roommates was an artist who often brought her metalwork home with her when the studio space she was renting closed early. The other roommate frequently had guests over, which was apparently just as loud as the metalworking. Arthur didn’t like to study at his flat because he found the silence repressive. 

Merlin was a surprisingly good study partner when he actually shut up. He was observant, and clever, and picked up on details that Arthur tended to miss. They still bickered, but it began to be a comfortable routine. 

It was after one of these sessions that Merlin asked, “Do you ever worry you won’t know how to do it properly?” 

“Do what?” Arthur asked, even though he already had a sneaking suspicion exactly what Merlin was talking about.

“Kiss someone.”

Yes. That. “I’m not. I assume I’ll do quite well at it. I’m good at most things.” Arthur tried to sound confident. Every time he imagined kissing someone, the imaginary man was quite enthusiastic about it.

“Well, you’re good at most things because you have the best teachers and tutors in the world. You spend hours practising,” Merlin said. “I don’t think that’s available for kissing.”

“Now, that’s not a bad idea.” 

“Arthur, I don’t think that getting a kissing tutor is exactly the smartest move here.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Arthur scoffed, “Not a tutor. We could practise.”

“We... as in— you and me? Together?”

Arthur tried not to focus on how the idea of kissing Merlin spread heat through his entire body, and instead tried to focus purely on the practicalities. “It makes sense. We each know that the other has no experience. Neither of us wants to look like idiots the first time we kiss someone. You’ve clearly shown you have no objections giving me constructive criticism. And I would do the same for you.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that.” Arthur could tell by the way that Merlin was biting his bottom lip that he was considering this seriously. “How would this work?”

“I think we should do six sessions. With no less than one week in between. Enough time to analyse how we could improve, but not so much that we forget anything we learned.”

“Bloody hell, are you going to make us take an exam at the end of it?”

Arthur paused to consider that. It would be ideal if they could, but there really was no practical or objective way to do that. Merlin was giving him a delightfully incredulous look so he put on an air of even deeper consideration, and pretended to think about it longer. “No, that wouldn’t be reasonable, unfortunately.”

“You really want to do this?”

“Do you?”

Merlin stopped walking, and looked carefully at Arthur. Arthur made himself meet his eyes and not blush. 

“Yeah, okay,” Merlin said. “We should set some ground rules, I suppose.”

“Right,” Arthur agreed. “We don’t tell anyone.”

“Agreed. No laughing.”

“Done. No feelings.”

“Easy. It doesn’t impact our work together.”

“Of course. Anything else?”

Merlin shuffled his feet. “I think that’s it. When do we… start?”

“Come by later to drop off the book about the response to the May Day Massacre you mentioned earlier. We can… start after that.”

“Right, okay. Er… see you then.” Merlin stuck out his hand, of all the absurd things, blushing like a schoolgirl. Arthur shook it briskly, and tried to convey just how ridiculous he was being through a scowl, but Merlin’s smile was contagious, and Arthur couldn’t help the flutter in his stomach as their hands lingered, clasped together.

Merlin showed up to his flat that evening, holding tightly onto a thick volume, and looking wildly uncomfortable. He was engaged in a staring match with Arthur’s security team when Arthur came downstairs to show him up to his room. 

They talked about the book for as long as they could until Arthur interjected, “well, should we… get to it then?”

Merlin stepped closer to him. Close enough that Arthur couldn’t make his eyes focus on any of the details of his face, just vague impressions of long eyelashes, and sharp cheekbones, wide eyes, and lips that— right, lips that he was meant to be kissing. His own mouth suddenly felt dry. He swallowed, running his fingers along the seam of his sweatpants pocket, unsure of what to do with them. He could feel the heat from Merlin’s body. The few centimeters in between them felt hot and alive. Energy that usually spilled out of Merlin in waves was now confined to his long fingers tapping against his thigh. He could smell Merlin - old ink, the mint tea he had just finished, and the smell of something that reminded him of Christmases before his mother passed away. This was going to happen, Arthur realised, with a jolt of nerves, as long as one of them made the first move. It should be him, he rationalised, royal courage, and honour, and the like.

He was steeling himself to lean forward when Merlin crashed against him. It felt more like a punch than a kiss; Merlin’s lips were hard, and pursed against his own. Their noses bumped together painfully, and it was over quickly. Arthur didn’t have time to close his eyes - Merlin pulled back almost as soon as they made contact. His eyes were eyes still squeezed shut, hands balled into fists at his side. 

Arthur couldn’t help the bark of laughter that came out of him - it was buoyed by nervousness, and disbelief that they were in this situation in the first place. It was a mistake. Merlin’s eyes opened into glaring slits.

“Hey,” he said, grabbing the pillow off Arthur’s bed to whack him with, “we made rules.” 

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said, voice still quavering with laughter. “It’s only, Merlin-- what was that?” 

Merlin’s eyebrows rose. “A kiss?”

“That was not a kiss. That was a high-speed car crash.”

“Oh, so now you’re the kissing expert?” Merlin asked. He crossed his arms, chin lifting defiantly in a way that Arthur had never seen anyone besides Morgana direct at him. He bit his lip to hold in a smile.

“I don’t have to have kissed anyone to know that it involves lips at the very least. And less bruising force. And, I’m pretty confident that noses don’t get poked into eyeballs in most decent kisses. I’m not a prude; I have witnessed kisses before, you know.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Well, at least I did something. You were just standing there staring at me. If I’d waited for you, we’d both have graduated before anything happened.”

Arthur squared his jaw. That was a challenge, if ever he’d heard one. He walked back towards Merlin with purposeful steps, not stopping until their faces were centimetres apart. He leant forward, mouth open, determined to make it work this time. 

Merlin broke away, clearly trying not to laugh himself this time. “Arthur, you’re trying to kiss me, not eat me,” he said. 

Arthur flushed, and wished that Merlin would look away from him. He didn’t like being bad at things - liked being told he was bad at things even less. Merlin must have noticed Arthur’s discomfort; he stopped laughing, and his face softened. 

“Erm, no just, ah,” he stepped closer with his hands outstretched. He entered back into Arthur’s space, so their chests were almost touching, his left hand dropping awkwardly to his side after hanging for a minute by Arthur’s arm. His right hand, however, moved so it was barely brushing against Arthur’s cheek.

“Just,” Merlin began again. His words sent minted breath across Arthur’s face. “Just close your mouth a bit more, maybe?” He placed hesitant fingers against the underside of Arthur’s jaw, nudging it so his mouth was barely open. He ran a finger gently over Arthur’s lips, tracing the space between them. 

Arthur swallowed. The touch was intimate in a way that sent nerves and something else swirling in his stomach. Merlin hesitated, staring down between long lashes at his finger against Arthur’s lips. 

“Just, like this, maybe,” he said quietly, his eyes not moving.

“Right,” Arthur said, just as soft. Merlin dropped his hand, moving towards him slowly this time. 

Arthur let him. He tilted towards him, careful to keep his lips slightly parted. He saw Merlin’s eyes flutter shut right before their mouths met, and, _oh_ , that was nice, Merlin’s lips against his, soft and warm, a hint of mint still lingering. Arthur moved his lips experimentally, pressing them a little harder against Merlin’s. The movement caused Merlin to stumble backwards, but he recovered quickly, leaning back in so their bodies were flush. The hard heat of Merlin’s chest against his unlocked something in Arthur. He wanted more. He brought one hand to Merlin’s back, so he wouldn’t move as he pressed closer. This close he could feel Merlin’s intake of breath against his chest as his hand slid along the plane of his back. 

Merlin leaned back into Arthur’s hold, and hesitantly drew a hand up his arm. The touch was light, and barely there, but it felt as hot as fire, and brushed through the hairs on Arthur’s arm in a way that sent pleasant shivers down his whole body. Merlin’s hand finished its journey by lightly grasping his biceps, his touch like a firebrand, but God, Arthur needed more. As if reading his mind, Merlin leaned in closer, moved his other hand to the back of Arthur’s neck, combing through the fine hairs at his nape. Arthur shivered in response, and he leaned against the heat of Merlin’s chest. The contact was overwhelming, clouding Arthur’s thoughts, making him almost dizzy. He held Merlin close to him, his hand spreading over the expanse of his lower back, thumb tracing the hem of Merlin’s jumper, seeking the smooth line of bare skin underneath. 

Merlin sighed into his mouth, and Arthur pressed deeper into the noise, opening his mouth enough to trace his tongue tentatively along the edges of Merlin’s lips who jolted slightly in response, his grip tightening on Arthur’s neck. Arthur tried to draw back, worry flushing the heat from his body. But Merlin didn’t loosen his grip. He pulled Arthur closer, fumbling backwards until he hit the edge of the bed, his tongue meeting Arthur’s, drawing a soft noise from the back of his throat that set Arthur’s whole body afire. Any kind of hesitancy or nerves that remained were chased from his mind by arousal, and need, and suddenly the space between them was too great. Arthur’s hands scrambled to find bare skin to press against, fingers slipping just below the waistband of Merlin’s jeans. Arthur was grateful for the strength of Merlin’s grip because he felt almost lightheaded with pleasure. God, the softness of Merlin’s mouth, the sharpness of his teeth scraping slightly against his lips, the heat of his tongue, his skin, the way their heavy breaths synced together. He felt like he could live here, in this moment, and never tire of it, but at the same time, he had a desperate need for more of Merlin. More of his skin, and those small noises coming from the back of his throat. More of the heat that emanated from him, and more of his hands on Arthur. 

They were interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming loudly down the hall. 

Merlin fell away from him, the cold air shocking as it replaced his warmth. Arthur rubbed the back of his neck, and put one hand in his pocket, adjusting his sweatpants so there was no visible arousal. He knew he was flushed - knew that there was no way Merlin could hide embarrassment on that damn expressive face of his. Knew that his lips were probably red, and swollen, and he didn’t have a good explanation for what was happening.

Leon popped his head through the door, and looked shocked when he saw Merlin. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had… company?”

Arthur cleared his throat. “Merlin isn’t company. He’s on my course. He was just dropping off a book. Merlin, this is Leon.”

Merlin helpfully picked up the book he had brought in demonstration. 

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Merlin. I’ll just— wait downstairs,” Leon said, with an apologetic wave. 

Arthur laughed shakily as Leon hesitated before deciding to shut the door behind himself and left the room.

“Seems like no one titled ever learned how to knock on a door,” Merlin muttered, placing the book back on Arthur’s desk.

Arthur rolled his eyes.

“How did he get in anyway? Seems like a bit of a security leak. They practically strip-searched me before I was allowed across the threshold.”

“I’ve known Leon my entire life. If he were going to attack me, he’s had much better opportunities.”

Merlin shrugged as though he wasn’t convinced.

“Well, I guess that was our first… session,” Arthur said, clumsily.

“Do you have any suggestions for improvement?”

Arthur could feel his blush growing. “No. Uh. Not at this time.”


	2. Chapter 2

Merlin spent the next few days in a fog. Half his mind was rehashing every moment of his and Arthur’s practice. God, kissing was great, he decided, as he tapped his pen against his book, trying to bring his mind and body back to the present. If he’d known kissing was this great, he would have carved out some time in between studying and helping his mother and Gaius to do it long before now. Even as he thought that, a sharp doubt curled into his gut, cutting against the rising cloud of lust, that maybe kissing was only that good because it was _with Arthur_ : the daring smirk on his face right before their lips met, the smell of him - some poncy soap that cost more than Merlin had in his bank account, he was sure - and the worn leather of the jacket he always wore. The look on his face as they parted to catch their breaths, exhilarated, and disbelieving, and so damn handsome.

Merlin tried to push back the memories. Arthur was still a prat, and moreover, he had to work with him on the Iseldir Fair interviews. This afternoon, in fact, he realised as he closed the book, and checked the time on his phone. Shit. He was already late. 

Arthur was dressed in what he seemed to think was incognito clothing, and Merlin couldn’t help laughing as he jogged up to him.

“Is there something clinically wrong with you that prevents you from being able to tell time?” Arthur asked.

Ah, right, that was exactly why Merlin shouldn’t be spending time fantasising about Arthur’s lips. Because they said things like that. 

He rolled his eyes. “What are you wearing?”

“I have one of the most recognisable faces in the country, Merlin. What do you want me to do?” 

“You’re wearing a woolly hat. And sunglasses. It’s 18 degrees and cloudy. Surely, you aren’t so daft that you think this is the best disguise.”

It was Arthur’s turn to roll his eyes. “You realise that it’s probably a crime to insult me like that?”

“If the Crown spends all its time and resources locking up people who insult the Crown Prince, it’s no wonder they can’t get anything done,” Merlin said.

Arthur scowled, but there was a spark of amusement in his eyes that made Merlin’s mouth twitch towards a smile. 

“All right, how would you suggest I disguise myself?”

Merlin bit his lip, considering his next statement, before saying, “I could do it.”

“With magic?” Arthur looked wary, but intrigued.

“I haven’t done it before, but I’m pretty sure I could.” There was something about being able to admit it that felt good. Like relief. He’d spent so long either hiding his powers or minimising them, or pretending he didn’t want to use them.

“I don’t want to be your guinea pig, and end up blue or spotted,” Arthur said, but he was already taking a step towards Merlin. 

“Well, that would make it hard to be inconspicuous, wouldn’t it?”

“All right,” Arthur said.

“Yeah?” Merlin asked. He tugged Arthur further along the path in the park to a spot where they wouldn’t be seen. Arthur gave Merlin’s hand on his arm a pointed look, but allowed him to tug him behind a copse of trees. 

“This shouldn’t hurt,” he said, and raised his hands to Arthur’s head. He focused his magic on the shaggy gold of his hair, which shone briefly with magic, before fading into a mousey brown. Then, his eyes faded blue to grey;his nose flattened slightly.

Arthur was giving him a strange look.

“Was that okay?”

“It just… felt weird,” Arthur said, his eyes flitted down to Merlin’s hands. “How does it look?”

“Much more plain,” Merlin said, and watched as Arthur examined himself in his phone’s camera. 

“I guess I’m sufficiently disguised,” he said. “Come on.”

Merlin could feel the magic as they approached the fair. It buzzed through the air, and Merlin grinned, trying to suppress the urge to go running into the fray. His own magic felt bubbly and delightful under his skin, his fingers pleasantly warm. Arthur beside him was walking slowly, his mouth slightly open as he looked from tent to tent. There were men tying ribbons around bouquets of flowers that were exuding a soft melody, and women with displays of miniature fireworks. A couple selling wreaths of glittering berries that smelled like honey and champagne, and children floating feathers down makeshift racetracks they’d drawn into the dust. All of the lights along the rows of tents were floating. Everything felt alive and good, and it made Merlin feel like an overexcited child.

“Have you ever been to one of these before?” he asked Arthur.

“No, my father said they were too dangerous,” Arthur said. “What about you?”

“Gaius said it would be too tempting for me,” Merlin said.

Arthur looked at him, taking in his wide eyes and excited smile. “And does it feel tempting?” 

“It feels… like home.” It was true. There was something inside Merlin that felt like it made sense here, like _he_ made sense here. He turned away from Arthur, who was giving him an odd look, and walked over to a tent where a young man was setting up rows of targets, and flimsy looking bows and arrows. 

“Do you want to try your luck?” he called out as they approached him.

“Is it just a shooting game?” Arthur asked.

The young man smiled back at them. “A pound a shot, or five shots for four.”

Arthur nodded at Merlin, and handed the money to the young man who gladly accepted it, and handed Arthur a quiver of arrows, mumbling an incantation that sent the targets moving around the air in circles. To Arthur’s credit, his confident smile didn’t waver as the targets began circling, merely fading into a look of serious concentration as he lifted the bow and fitted the arrow. It looked a bit ridiculous, the intensity of Arthur’s gaze, paired with a bow that was clearly a child’s toy. Merlin’s laugh vanished as Arthur let go of the string, and sent the arrow straight into the centre of one of the targets. 

Arthur turned back to him with his eyebrows raised. 

“Not bad,” Merlin said.

“Not bad? You think you could do better?”

Merlin sent his arrow flying and missed the targets completely; it landed on the ground next to the smiling attendant. He muttered another incantation, and the arrow went flying into the pile next to the bows. 

“Your form is terrible,” Arthur observed dryly. 

“Raise the bow.”

Merlin did as instructed; Arthur stepped close behind him. The proximity made it impossible for Merlin not to think about the last time they were this close. He could smell Arthur. He could feel the heat coming from his body, and how close they were to touching at so many points. Arthur placed a hand on Merlin’s back.

“Keep your spine straight,” he said, hisvoice blowing warm breath across Merlin’s ear and neck. He kicked his feet against Merlin’s, his leg pressing between his own. “Feet shoulder-width apart, like that. Relax.”

Merlin definitely was not going to be able to relax with Arthur as close as he was.

“Hold it like this,” Arthur said, and adjusted Merlin’s hands. “Pull back. Watch your elbow. All right, now you need to anticipate where the target will be, and… release.”

Merlin hit a target this time. It wasn’t the one he was aiming for, but he wasn’t going to tell Arthur that. It dangled, barely secure in the outer circle. 

Arthur stepped back and clapped him on the back. “See, your form.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, and handed the bow back to Arthur who easily made a shot in one of the remaining targets.

“Last one,” said the man behind the counter. “You’ve got to make a bullseye in this one to get a prize.”

Arthur reached for the last arrow, but Merlin grabbed it first. 

“I’ve got this one.”

Arthur raised his brows.

Merlin didn’t follow Arthur’s instructions, purposely widening his stance and stooping his shoulders. When he heard Arthur’s indignant correction start to leave his mouth, he loosened the arrow, and with a twitch of his head, and a flare of his eyes, directed it into the centre of the last target. 

Arthur’s stare flickered between Merlin’s eyes and the target. Merlin grinned. 

“Isn’t that cheating?” Arthur asked the young man.

“Not here,” he replied with a grin, before turning to Merlin. “You did that without a spell?” 

Merlin’s stomach tightened, realising that, even here, he couldn’t be totally open. It was a rare sight to see someone who could use wordless magic like his these days. “I was just really quiet,” he said.

The man and Arthur both gave him a look like they didn’t quite believe it. 

The young man grabbed the box of prizes, and held out his hand to Merlin. 

“I’m Gilli,” he said with a smile.

“Merlin - and the pouting sore loser beside me is Arthur,” Merlin said.

“You can hardly say I lost when we were on the same team,” Arthur protested, but he adjusted his face so the slight frown vanished.

Merlin rummaged in the box until he found a garish, cheap, plastic crown, adorned with bright plastic gemstones. “Perfect,” he said, and placed it on Arthur’s head. 

“My lord,” he said, looking up at Arthur in mock deference. 

Arthur’s jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed as he looked Merlin directly in the eyes with an expression he clearly thought was intimidating. Merlin laughed, and nudged Arthur with his elbow in case he was thinking about accusing Merlin of treason, which would not help his disguise.

Gilli was standing slightly awkwardly beside them, a smile still on his face that was wearing at the corners. 

“Can we ask you a few questions? For a project we’re working on?” Merlin asked, as he fished the consent forms from his bag. Gilli agreed, and put up a sign on the booth window before showing them to a few chairs set up behind his tent. 

Merlin was surprised by how much Arthur let him take the lead. He was expecting him to steamroll over Merlin and go through the list of questions quickly and efficiently. Instead, he sat back, letting Merlin ask most of the questions, and taking notes in a notebook that Merlin hadn’t even noticed he brought. His face stayed open and interested the whole time, his attention never wavering. 

Merlin finished by asking Gilli what his life would be like without magic.

Gilli paused. He fiddled with the ring on his finger before answering. “I don’t know. I know that’s not a good answer, but it’s true. It’s shaped my whole life. It’s the point where I don’t know how to distinguish myself from my magic, you know? Without it I’d be nothing.”

Merlin smiled at him, and squeezed his arm. “Thank you.” 

They interviewed five other people - some vendors, some patrons - before things started to shut down. Arthur indulged Merlin in running to the last few food stands that were open to buy the most sugary things they were selling. 

Merlin headed back to his flat and Arthur followed as though they’d agreed on it beforehand. He settled in Merlin’s room and pulled out his laptop. 

It wasn’t until he noticed the sharp ache in his neck that Merlin realised how long he’d been transcribing the interviews. It had started to get dark, though Arthur hadn’t noticed either. He was still combing through old court records, and archived parliament sessions, furiously typing notes on his computer. Merlin rose to turn on the light, and stretched, sighing as he felt the tight cords of muscle in his neck and lower back relaxing as he spread his arms above his neck. 

“ _What_ is _that_?” 

Arthur had apparently looked up from his laptop, and was now staring at the inch of exposed skin where his shirt had lifted. At the bottom of his tattoo. Shit. 

“It’s nothing!” Merlin said, starting to tug his shirt down, but Arthur was too fast. Merlin didn’t even see him cross the room, but his large hand caught the edge of Merlin’s shirt, tugging it back up. 

“Do you have a tattoo?” Arthur asked, his eyes lit with laughter. 

“No,” Merlin said, “absolutely no tattoo. We’ve been working too long. You’re imagining things.” 

Arthur’s laugh was genuine and warm. “You do!” He tugged harder at the shirt, and Merlin tried to twist away. “I can’t believe you won’t show it to me! Is it embarrassing?” 

“No!” Arthur’s laughter was contagious. Merlin tried to make his face serious, but his smile kept fighting its way back. 

“Oh, it is, isn’t it? Is it someone’s name? A horribly-misspelt word? An inspirational phrase? Is it a dolphin? Please tell me it’s a dolphin.”

“It’s not a dolphin!” Merlin said, dodging Arthur’s grip and darting to the other side of the room. 

“Ah, so there is a tattoo? Why won’t you let me see it?” Arthur said. He’d cornered Merlin against the wall, and Merlin was suddenly aware of just how close he was, and the intimacy of his hands pressing against Merlin’s stomach. He swallowed, willing down the rising blush on his cheeks, and the rising arousal in his body. 

Merlin managed to duck out of Arthur’s grip this time by twisting his body back towards the floor. It mostly worked, but it also resulted in both him and Arthur tumbling to the floor. He scrambled backwards, but Arthur was too fast. He kneeled over him, and grabbed the bottom of his shirt.

“All right, all right,” Merlin acquiesced, “you win!” He shifted out from under Arthur, and flipped over so he was straddling Arthur’s legs instead. Arthur grinned expectantly, and he tugged Merlin’s shirt over his head to reveal the dragon tattooed along his stomach and chest. 

“Oh,” Arthur said, softly. His hands stilled on Merlin’s hips, his eyes slowly tracing the lines of ink up Merlin’s stomach and chest. “It’s a dragon? I wouldn’t have guessed that. Maybe you’re a secret royalist after all.” 

Merlin huffed in laughter. That was exactly the opinion he didn’t want Arthur getting from the tattoo to begin with. 

Arthur propped himself up on one elbow. “Is it… moving?”

Merlin looked down at the ink. It stretched across half his torso, bold black ink underscored with red. The tail curled just under his hip bone; the head spread, and breathing gold fire across his chest.

“My friend Will gave it to me. I, uh, enhanced the ink. Just a bit. To make it more lifelike. It was a stupid idea, really. Now I can’t take my shirt off in front of anyone who doesn’t already know. Which, I guess that’s just you. Well, and my mum. And Gaius. And Will. And Freya. That sounds like a lot but it’s really not when you consider—” he broke off when he realised he was talking too much.

Arthur barely acknowledged his rambling. He was still staring at the tattoo. Merlin flushed under the scrutiny. Arthur’s right hand hovered by the ink stretching out from under his waistband. 

“Can I touch it?” he asked in a rough voice. 

Merlin nodded, and Arthur gently stroked his fingertips up the tail. 

Merlin’s breath caught. He could feel the magic under the ink respond to the touch, rushing towards the surface of his skin, eager and hot. The sensation was new, and he watched as the tattoo shifted from black to a vibrant red under Arthur’s touch. 

“It’s hot,” Arthur said. 

It took a moment for Merlin to realise what he was talking about. “That’s the magic I think. It’s been like that since I did it.” 

“It’s incredible,” Arthur said. His hand continued its slow, reverent journey up Merlin’s torso. The light and teasing touch, combined with the awe and wonder clear in Arthur’s gaze, made Merlin shiver, uncurling feverish desire low in his stomach. 

The dragon stretched its reptilian wings as Arthur reached its neck, his thumb brushing over Merlin’s nipple. Merlin tried to calm his breathing. The tattoo had never moved this much, and it felt strange as it stretched under his skin. 

The tendrils of smoke coming from the dragon’s mouth smouldered and turned to flames as Arthur stroked his finger along them, flames that stretched across Merlin’s collarbone and up his neck, magic carrying the ink and setting it alight. 

“How did you do this?” Arthur asked, his eyes finally tearing away from the tattoo to meet Merlin’s gaze. 

“I, er, just-- I was thinking about how life-like it looked after Will finished the last session. And I was just kind of curious to see if I could make it move. I pressed my hand into it, and I think I just, sort of, accidentally… gave it some life? Gave it some of my magic?” 

Arthur laughed slightly. “This was an accident?”

Merlin shrugged, “I guess.”

Arthur shook his head as he looked back at the flames, let his hand trace along them up Merlin’s neck. He paused with his hand there, his touch hot and deliberate.

“Is anyone else home?”

Merlin started at the sudden change of topic. “What?” 

“Will there be anyone popping by to borrow a book, or cry about their break-up, or ask you to edit their essay?” 

“Not that I know of.”

“Good. I think it’s a good time to, um, practise again. As long as you—”

Merlin leant forward, and kissed him before he could finish the sentence. Arthur’s lips parted, as hot and gentle as his fingers tracing up Merlin’s chest. His tongue followed. He kissed him the same way he’d explored his tattoo, all curiosity and teasing, his tongue almost tentative in its movements. Merlin leaned further into him, and a small sound of appreciation slipped out. 

One of Arthur’s hands was still firm and possessive over his tattoo, the other gripping at his back, pulling him closer. Merlin moaned as his tongue pressed deeper, the muscles in his thighs clenching to stop himself from pressing his hips and growing erection against Arthur. God, as close as they were, his body wanted more. He fingered the edge of Arthur’s t-shirt, and then tugged experimentally, unsure. Undressing was definitely not part of their agreement. 

Arthur responded immediately, pulling the shirt over his head with one insistent tug, and tossing it aside. Merlin barely had a moment to look at the taut muscles in his chest, and the pale stretch of skin before Arthur roughly pulled him back into the kiss, pressing their chests together. All of the bare skin pressed into his was almost as sweet as the noise Arthur made in response, half-moan, half-growl, a breathy syllable that sounded almost like his name. Merlin slid a hand up Arthur’s neck and into his hair, enjoying the way the soft strands felt against his fingers that were already starting to burn with unreleased magic.

Arthur shifted them so he was leaning against the wall, without breaking the kiss. The movement gave him more leverage to press back into the kiss, shifting their bodies just enough for Merlin’s crotch to press against Arthur’s. 

“Fuck,” he cursed against Arthur’s lips, as his hips pressed closer. His cock was aching, and the hot friction of Arthur’s body against it felt like a goddamn miracle. 

Arthur broke away. _Fuck._ He was meant to be kissing him, not rutting against him like an out-of-control teenager. 

Arthur’s eyes were wide and dark, and he slowly moved his hand to Merlin’s hips. Pressingan open-mouthed kiss to Merlin’s mouth, he guided his hips in another slow thrust against him, this time at an angle where he could feel the thick heat of Arthur’s cock pressing back against his own. Oh, god, that was good. The harsh pant of Arthur’s breath, the held back moan escaping his mouth, the hot pressure and friction - all of it was too much. Merlin’s hand squeezed into a fist, forgetting it was still tangled in the roots of Arthur’s hair. 

“Merlin,” Arthur growled. 

Merlin pulled back. “Shit, sorry, I—”

“No,” Arthur said quickly. “No, it’s good. It’s all-- so good. Don’t stop.” 

Merlin moaned, resting a steadying hand against the wall, and slowly rocked his hips against Arthur, keeping his other hand grasped in his hair. He tried to keep the rhythm slow to appreciate the exquisite friction, and the soft, breathy groans that fell from Arthur’s slack lips. It was simultaneously too much, and not enough. Even as Arthur arched against him, running his fingers greedily over his bare chest, even as Merlin took Arthur’s mouth in his own in another deep kiss, and relished in the hot, solid proof of Arthur’s desire pressing against his own, even as he felt the pleasure growing and coursing through his blood, close to cresting, there was a small, greedy, loud part of him that wanted _more_. He wanted more of Arthur - more of his skin on his, wanted to see what else he could do to have him cursing, and squirming and panting beneath him. 

Merlin could feel his magic rising in him, too. It burned in his fingers, and flared across his chest. _Shit_. It all was too much. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen. He pressed his forehead against Arthur’s, and stilled for a moment, trying to steady his breath and regain some control. 

“God, _Merlin_ ,” Arthur said, voice low, and filled with need, echoed by an insistent thrust of his hips. 

Arousal shot through him, tightening the muscles in his thighs, aching and desperate, and _shit_. Merlin broke away, every inch of his skin crackling with magic. He had to get out of here before something happened. It was one thing for Arthur to see him gently floating water in the air, but who knew what was about to happen. Merlin stumbled to his feet, and tried not to look at Arthur’s face, confusion sharpening his features. 

“I’ve got to go,” Merlin managed, before grabbing his shirt from the floor, and fleeing the room. It wasn’t until he stopped running, and he leant against the cold stone wall of the alleyway that he realised that he had just run away from his own home, leaving the Crown Prince hard, and half dressed, alone on his floor. Merlin cursed, and pressed his burning hands against the coolness of the wall. The alley was empty. He took a deep breath, and let go of the last shards of his control. The ivy underneath his hands lit into brilliant yellow flames, before sparking and crumbling to ash. He took another gulping breath, and greenery sprouted from the smoke, verdant and flowering. 

The power inside him was still scrambling and scratching at his skin, trying to get out, but it felt more manageable now. Less like he was about to make the whole damn room explode, and more like the familiar ache he’d grown used to. 

* * *

Arthur stayed, leaning against Merlin’s wall, and staring at the door the other man had run out of. He may not have much experience with kissing, but he knew enough to know that causing people to flee from their own homes was not a good sign. What the hell had gone wrong? It had been going— well, Arthur thought. Incredibly well, in fact. He blinked back the memory of Merlin leaning over him with that goddamn tattoo glowing gold and red, the look of lust in those blue eyes, and lips— shit. Arthur went to the bathroom, and splashed water on his face. He clutched the edge of the sink, and tried to will away the last of the arousal still smoldering in his body. Maybe he didn’t do anything wrong at all. Maybe Merlin had been late for a class. Maybe Merlin was just a crackpot who never learned manners out there in the country, and thought that was an acceptable way to leave. Although, if that were true, then Arthur was the idiot who couldn’t stop thinking about when he could get his lips on him again, and that didn’t bode any better for him. 

He sighed, and walked back out to the hallway only to be started by a sharp, feminine yelp. He turned to the front door where Guinevere was frozen staring at him, her coat half-way shrugged off, and her hand hovering over the key hook. 

“Oh!” she said. “Arthur— I mean— Sir— your highness? Um—”

“Please, just Arthur is fine,” he cut in, and tried to push his worries about Merlin out of his mind so his smile would be genuine. “Did you see Merlin?” he asked, before he could stop himself.

“No - he’s not here?” Gwen still looked flustered as she looked around the room.

“He had to run out. Which, coincidentally, I should do too,” Arthur finished in his calmest and smoothest tone. 

He walked towards the door, and the cool evening air hit his bare chest at the same moment Gwen said, “Uh, Arthur?”

He turned back towards her. The shy deference was completely gone, replaced by a teasing laughter in her eyes, and a slight knowing smirk. Shit. “I think you may be forgetting your shirt. Sire.”

Princes don’t blush. Or splutter. Or get so distracted that they walk out of other people’s apartments without half their clothing. Arthur cleared his throat, and tried his hardest to put all of the dignity and pretension he had into his movements as he walked back to Merlin’s room, put his shirt back on, and walked out the door. 

He didn’t see Merlin until the next meeting in Morgause’s lab. He hadn’t texted, or called, or sent him any other messages. Really, he thought, it should be Merlin’s responsibility, seeing as he was the one who’d run out. 

Merlin slinked in right after Morgause, and sat on the other side of the room. 

Morgause was talking about the overall decrease in magic that had occurred since the first set of magical regulations had passed. It sparked a lively debate about causality that Arthur really was interested in. He just kept getting distracted by the way Merlin was chewing on the back of his pen.

Merlin lingered as Morgause packed up her bag, and Arthur finished jotting down his notes. Arthur had never seen someone do up the buttons on their coat so slowly, and he let relief tame some of the anxiety in the pit of the stomach. At least this meant that Merlin wasn’t too disgusted to be alone in the same room with him.

It felt like an age before Morgause left, and Merlin made eye contact with him.

“Erm...” He started by sheepishly smiling at Arthur, an expression that Arthur definitely didn’t find meltingly endearing, and then looked down at his boots. “I’m sorry about the other night. It wasn’t about you,” Merlin said quickly. “It wasn’t about me, either, really. It wasn’t about you and me. Not that there is a you and me for it to be about. I mean. But, if there was, it wasn’t about that. That was good. What we were doing. Maybe it was too good. Not too good in a bad way. I just. There’s more I should tell you. Or, that I want to tell you. Maybe not right here though. Listening ears and all that. I get if you’re mad at me, or want to stop—”

Arthur’s chest lifted. Not that what Merlin was saying made that much sense, but he wasn’t mad, or hurt, and Arthur hadn’t irrevocably fucked his chances of having Merlin as his friend, or kissing him ever again, and that was enough to make him genuinely smile for the first time in days. “Merlin,” he interrupted, “you can shut up now.”

Merlin shut his mouth, and his eyes sparkled.

“Come by later and we can talk about it. Away from listening ears.”

Merlin grinned, and Arthur couldn’t look away. They stayed like that for a while, the pair of them just smiling at each other like idiots, before Merlin looked away to check his phone. 

“Oh, right, I, uh, have class, like, ten minutes ago. But I’ll see you tonight.”

Arthur watched him run off, a jog that turned into more of a wild, loping sprint as he checked the time on his phone again. 

Arthur smiled to himself, and turned to walk back towards home, much more content and light-hearted than he had been feeling when he’d arrived on campus. 

* * *

It’s not that he was eagerly awaiting Merlin’s visit, Arthur assured himself, as he checked the time again. He just knew he had a class that ended at seven, because they had to compare schedules in order to find times to work on the interviews, and because Merlin insisted on texting him updates about the number of times that he had to elbow Professor Lewis awake. So by eight, Arthur was just concerned for Merlin's safety, that was all. Merlin could have tripped and landed in a ditch somewhere, knowing him. Or he had stopped to help an elderly lady cross the street, or something, and it had all been some kidnapping scam. Or-- he could have decided he didn’t want anything to do with Arthur after all. Arthur rolled his eyes at himself, and shut the book he had been pretending to read. He reached for his phone to check it again, just as it buzzed.

MERLIN: (20:01) Sorry

Arthur watched the typing dots, and tried not to finish the sentence in his mind. Sorry, I never want to see you again. Sorry, I’m being held for ransom, and you’re the only person I know with more than 50 pounds in their bank account.

MERLIN: (20:02): Gwaine and Gwen insisted I’ve been moping and forced me to go out for drinks. Not that I’ve been moping or that drinks with them would fix it even if I were. But here we are.

Well, okay, Arthur thought. Just a friendly kidnapping, then. That was okay. 

MERLIN: (20:02) You should come! 

MERLIN: (20:02) Please

Arthur already knew he was going to say yes, even though he wasn’t meant to drink places where people could take photos, and even though he was pretty sure Gwaine hated him, and Gwen was terrified of him. 

MERLIN: (20:04) You can bring that friend of yours who you say already had his chance to kill you. And your scary sister. And Gwaine says to bring that muscly friend of yours too. I don’t know who he’s talking about cos frankly everyone you hang out with is unfairly fit, but he says he is spectacularly muscly and you’ll know which one he means.

ARTHUR: (20:04) Which pub are you at?

MERLIN: (20:05) You’re coming? The Rising Sun

ARTHUR: (20:05) I just want to make sure I know where to go in case I need to come rescue you all from yourselves

MERLIN: (20:06) Okay, see you soon :)

Arthur didn’t respond, and texted Leon and Percival instead. He’d call Morgana - just because she always got delightfully irritated when anyone called when they could have texted.


	3. Chapter 3

They arrived at the pub half an hour later. Percival and Leon were just excited that Arthur actually wanted to go out, but Morgana had given him a much-too-knowing look when he picked her up. The pub itself was quaint, maybe in a way that Arthur would have turned up his nose at before, but he wanted to make an effort to be less of a stuck-up prat, in Merlin’s words. So he, rather graciously in his mind, ignored the dim light, and smell of stale beer. The stares and whispers he was more used to ignoring. They found Merlin and his flatmates in a booth towards the rear of the building. 

**“** Merlin,” Morgana said, “why didn’t you tell me you know Gwen Smith? What else have you been hiding from me?”

Gwen looked as shocked as Arthur was. She tucked a curl behind her ear, and smiled shyly at his sister.

Morgana quickly left Arthur’s side, and sat down next to the other woman, taking her hand and shaking it, before clasping it between her own. “I saw your exhibition in Glasgow last month, and I was blown away.”

The conversation flowed easily after that. Arthur tried to join in, and not focus on how close Gwaine was sitting to Merlin.

It wasn’t, Arthur realised with a feeling akin to a blow in the gut, just the casual contact - the easy way he slung an arm around Merlin, or leaned close to whisper something in his ear. That twisted his insides unpleasantly on its own. But part of what made it so intense, part of what caused the bitter taste in his mouth, and the unseemly desire to physically remove Gwaine from the table, was the fact that Gwaine _knew_ Merlin so well. He knew without asking what drink Merlin wanted when he went to buy another round. He told jokes that made Merlin laugh so hard he almost choked on his beer. He knew details about Merlin’s childhood - knew his mother’s name, and what his godfather did.

He doesn’t know his biggest secret, a prideful voice inside Arthur’s head provided. He tried to hold on to that, and not think about the fact that Arthur only knew that by accident; it wasn’t something that Merlin had chosen to trust him with. Arthur shook his head, and took a long drink from his beer. It would be easy enough to learn things about Merlin. All he had to do was ask. Sometime whilst he was lost in that unpleasant train of thought, Percival had gone to go get another round. Gwaine and Leon were loudly discussing last night’s match, so he took the opportunity to turn to Merlin. 

“Before we agreed to practise together,” he said softly, “you said you didn’t have time in uni because you were taking care of your mum. Is she all right now?”

Maybe it was too personal a question, or maybe he was being too blunt, but Arthur genuinely wanted to know. 

“Wait,” Gwaine interrupted. “What are you two practising together?”

“Sailing,” Arthur said quickly. He was quite pleased with his quick thinking, but the burst of laughter from Gwaine, and the strange look Leon was giving him told him maybe he had made a mistake.

“Sailing? Merlin? He’s terrified of the water!”

“Yeah, well, maybe I wanted to try to get over that,” Merlin piped up.

“And has that been working, Merlin?” Gwen asked. Her face was all sweet innocence, but there was something playful in her tone and sharp in her eyes. Arthur made a mental note never to underestimate her. 

“Well!” Merlin said, at the same time that Arthur responded in the negative. 

Merlin gave him a sharp glance. 

“It’s been going well since we finally got him in the boat,” Arthur amended. “It took a lot of cajoling. Some bribery.” 

“But since then I’ve been doing great,” Merlin said, and kicked Arthur firmly under the table. 

Arthur laughed, and ignored the suspicious look that his friends were giving him. 

Merlin rolled his eyes, and turned pointedly back to Arthur. “My mum’s fine now. Great actually. She got into a pretty bad car accident the summer before I was meant to start my undergrad so I stayed at home instead. She needed a lot of help with most things at first. Was in PT for years. I was able to start commuting the next year, but I still had to be there to help her.”

Arthur swallowed, regretting the fact that he’d brought it up at all. “That must have been hard.” 

Merlin shrugged. “She’s my mum.” As if that were the only explanation needed. Arthur wondered what it would be like to have that kind of clarity. 

“We tried everything at first to try to _fix_ her. I even tried to get a magical healer.”

Arthur noticed the wordless communication between Merlin and his two roommates after that comment. Gwaine shot a sharp look at Merlin, and then nodded his head towards Arthur. Gwen gave him a pointedly-concerned look. Merlin just shrugged them off, and smiled slightly.

“It didn’t work out. There’d been a rash of raids near Ealdor. For unsanctioned magic use, you know. The healer wouldn’t come to us, and we couldn’t make it to him. In the end, it worked out okay. The less we worried about trying to fix her, and the more we focused on how to make the days easier, the better it was.”

“I’d repeal that law, if I could,” Arthur said. It was true, he realised. The more he learned about the magical community, the stronger he felt. 

Gwaine smiled at him, and Merlin gave him a long look, before the conversation moved on.

An hour later, Arthur was feeling pleasantly buzzed. He still had full control of his faculties, but it was enough that everything in the room was a bit softer. The smell of old beer was completely forgotten. The loud noises of the other patrons were easier to tune out. Arthur used his tipsiness as an excuse to fall slightly into the booth after his trip to the bathroom, so that he was pressed in close to Merlin. Too close, probably, but it still didn’t feel close enough. The heat of his body pressed into Arthur’s from ankle to hip. Merlin put his elbows on the table, and leaned forward slightly, so Arthur could press their arms together, too. It was delightful, and Arthur suddenly felt more inebriated than he had just a moment ago. He turned his attention back to the rest of the table. Morgana and Gwen were in some sort of deep conversation, their voices low enough that Arthur couldn’t make out the words, just the hushed excitement they both shared. Morgana kept placing a hand on Gwen’s arm as she spoke, letting it linger. Arthur felt a pang of envy that his sister knew how to do that - how to understand what she wanted, and reach for it like it was some simple matter. 

Gwaine had found Percival’s website for his self-defence classes. Arthur grinned. He’d given the man plenty of grief for it himself, but he genuinely did good work. The site was just a lot - pictures of Percival in his firefighter uniform, and of him carrying a ridiculous number of adorable children in each arm, accompanied by tearful testimonial videos. 

“Be prepared for the unprecedented,” Gwaine read.

Oh, right. The copy was pretty ridiculous too.

“Have a plan for the unthinkable. Gain the confidence to stay protected from every threat.”

Percival was blushing. Arthur was going to step in, and defend his friend, but Gwaine continued before he could. “Listen mate, I’m sure this is really effective advertising, but honestly, you could get just as many people to sign up if you just posted yourself shirtless with the print ‘True to Size’ underneath.”

Percival laughed good-naturedly in response.

“So, do you have a plan for the unthinkable? Know how you’d handle any threat? What about… a great white shark just mounted on the head of a bear?”

“Is it on land, or in the water?”

Gwaine looked to Leon, who paused to consider it. “First, on land.”

Percival took a moment to mull over his answer, “First, I would get to higher ground. Then, dislodge the shark with a kick. Once the shark is off the bear, it wouldn’t really pose much of a threat would it? Do I have any weapons?”

“Just those meaty arms and legs of yours,” Gwaine said with a wink.

“Stay quick on my feet, and centre all my attacks on the bear’s snout. Go for short attacks. Nothing that would open me up to any attacks.”

Leon turned to Gwaine for his assessment. “All right, I accept that. What about in water?”

As Percival started explaining the nuances of how he would first try to drown the bear, Merlin shifted next to Arthur. He hooked his ankle over Arthur’s, and pulled himself even closer. Their legs twisted together, and Merlin used the new position to slowly start dragging the front of his foot up and down Arthur’s calf. The conversation around them turned to white noise; all Arthur could focus on were the hot points of contact between them. He looked at Merlin who appeared to still be actively engaged in the debate in front of them. His grin was open, lighting his entire face. Arthur swallowed, and tried to stop staring. Merlin squeezed his leg. The whole room felt entirely too hot. All right, two could play that game, Arthur thought. He slowly - casually, he hoped - moved his hand under the table, and rested it on his own knee. Pointedly, he inched across so his fingers grazed along the seam of Merlin’s jeans. He watched Merlin’s smile falter slightly, and grinned. 

He slid his hand further until he cupped Merlin’s thigh, and traced circles along the rough fabric of his jeans. Merlin cleared his throat, and tightened his grip around his drink. The blush that was creeping up along those sharp cheekbones made Arthur’s own blood start to rush. He moved his hand higher up Merlin’s leg.

Merlin, for his part, was trying very hard to focus. “What about a tall Napoleon?” he asked Percival. “Not just, like, average height but, like, giant.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” Percival answered. “He’s still a lazy emperor, not like he was super fit, even if he were giant. Kick his legs out from under him then—”

Arthur moved his hand higher, so it brushed along the curve of Merlin’s hips. Merlin shifted in his seat. He leaned back under the pretence of stretching, and whispered close enough to Arthur’s ear that it sent shivers across his whole body.

“What are you doing?”

What _was_ he doing? Probably something extremely ill-advised, but it still wasn’t as ill-advised as what he wanted to do. He wanted to kiss the pink flush along Merlin’s cheeks. He wanted to bite those wine stained lips, and drag Merlin into his lap. He didn’t though, because he was still holding on to enough of his sanity to know what a bad idea that was. 

He stood. “Merlin, I think it would be a good idea for us to… practise … sailing now.”

Merlin stood just as abruptly. 

Gwaine turned from Percival with a grin still on his face. It melted into a confused look. “Practise sailing?”

“It’s important to know how to navigate at night,” Arthur said, and Merlin nodded enthusiastically behind him. 

Gwaine, Percival, and Leon gave them a bewildered look as they both rushed to put their coats on. Arthur didn’t really care. The only thing he cared about were Merlin’s long, hot fingers around his wrist, and getting somewhere where he could pull Merlin to him, and let those fingers explore his whole body. He didn’t think his sister even noticed them leaving until her cool voice called out.

“Bye, boys; don’t get too wet.”

Well, shit. He was probably going to have a conversation with her soon, where he’d be really convincing about how he’s teaching Merlin to sail, but that didn’t matter right now. 

What mattered was the way the Merlin’s fingers had slipped underneath the edge of his leather jacket, and found a strip of bare skin where his shirt had risen. What mattered was the way he pulled him, just a little bit roughly, down the next alley they passed. What mattered was the heat pooling in Arthur’s groin, and the way it flared as Merlin walked him against a wall, and stood there staring at him with intent heat behind his eyes, chest heaving.

“You have been driving me crazy all night,” he said.

“Me? What about you, with your… smile and hands and… tattoo,” Arthur realised he sounded like a bit of a dolt, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when Merlin was licking his lips, and looking at him like that.

“You can’t even see my tattoo.”

“No, but I know that it’s there.” Arthur traced a finger along Merlin’s heaving chest, and leaned towards him.

“Wait,” Merlin whispered. 

Arthur sighed in displeasure, but the sigh turned into shock as he watched Merlin’s eyes spark gold, likethey had the day he’d walked in on him doing whatever he was doing to the water. They glowed, then smouldered back to blue. Arthur heard glass shattering.

“Cameras,” Merlin said, and then closed the distance between them and kissed him. And God, Arthur had been waiting too long for this. He knew they should stop, that they should wait until they’re behind a door with a lock, but the idea of Merlin needing him this badly made him ache with pleasure. He untucked Merlin’s shirt and ran his hand over the tight wiry muscles of his chest, drifting across the heated skin where he knew the ink was, before circling round to his back so he could pull him flush and tight against his own body. Merlin’s kisses were insistent and needy, his fingers tightening in Arthur’s hair, pulling just enough to make Arthur’s hips cant, needing pressure. Merlin’s tongue was warm against Arthur’s, and, fuck, he needed more of this. More of him. He didn’t know how to ask for what he wanted or how it fit into whatever this pretense of practice they had created. He broke away, about to ask, to beg for something, right here in the alley, but before he could, there was a crash, louder than Merlin breaking the CCTV cameras. And then a shout. Arthur felt Merlin tense against him. His own arousal was washed from his body by cold sharp adrenaline. There was another shout - something indistinct but angry. 

It was coming from the next street over, if Arthur was hearing correctly. He took off towards the noise, though not too fast to miss Merlin saying, “Right. Go _towards_ the sounds of violence. That’s smart.” 

But he also heard Merlin following close behind. The yelling was getting clearer as they approached.

“Do you think you can just walk away from this, you fucking fool? You don’t have that choice anymore.”

“We own you.”

Whimpers and more clattering.

Arthur rounded the corner to see three tall men surrounding a young man who was trying to scramble to his feet. He turned, and shoved Merlin back around the corner. “Stay here,” he said, in a voice edged with all the authority he possessed. It usually made people cower and submit without a second word. Merlin rolled his eyes, but Arthur didn’t have time to question whether it was going to work. 

He stepped towards the group of men. “Excuse me, gentlemen. Everything all right over here?” 

The tallest of the group whipped around, the snarl still spread across his features. “Fuck off--” His eyes widened in recognition and surprise as he looked over Arthur. He schooled his face back to a neutral scowl. 

“It’s nothing you need to worry about, surely,” he said. “Just keep walking.”

“Your friend might disagree with you,” Arthur said, taking a step towards the man on the ground. From here, he could see a trickle of blood running down his cheek, from some injury his hairline concealed. When he turned his face up, Arthur was shocked to see the young man from the fair, Gilli.

“He’s none of your concern,” the tall man said. His hand went to his belt, and curled around something Arthur guessed was a blade of some kind. 

“Don’t get any closer.”

“I don’t think you have the authority to give me orders,” Arthur said. He reached out a hand, and pulled Gilli to his feet before pushing him back towards Merlin. He dodged the first punch, and kicked the man’s knife out of his hand, before turning to face the other two men.

The fight was quick, all things considered. Arthur disposed of the first two men, and just when he was turning towards the third, he saw him slammed into the wall, and a bin from the street lift to knock him out. He turned back towards Merlin just in time to see the gold melting from his eyes.

“We need to get you to hospital,” Arthur said to Gilli, looking at the young man’s ankle, which was already swelling, and an angry shade of red. 

“No!” he said, voice more forceful than Arthur would have guessed him capable of. 

Merlin kneeled next to him, and Arthur followed suit.

“All right. Gilli,” Arthur said, “Can you stand?” 

He tried, one hand pressed to his ribs, and the other grasping Arthur’s, and winced as he put weight on the ankle. “It’s not too bad,” he said.

Arthur propped him against a stack of boxes, and leaned down to pull at the cuff of his jeans. 

“Let me wrap it before we try again,” he said, and Gilli nodded, so he tore at the sleeve of his shirt until a long, wide strip came loose, which he used to tightly wrap around the swelling limb. He helped Gilli to a standing position again, this time wrapping a steadying arm around him so he didn’t have to put as much pressure on his ankle to walk. Gilli managed to take a few shaky steps forward.

Merlin joined him on his other side, and squeezed his arm. “You don’t need to be worried,” he said, in a voice so calm and chipper that Arthur found himself relaxing too. “Arthur is somehow incredibly skilled at fisticuffs, despite the fact that there is no way he’s ever been in a proper fight. And I’ve got a secret weapon.”

Gilli laughed weakly, and Arthur smiled despite the slight. 

They managed to hobble back to Merlin’s flat in pretty good time, all things considered. Arthur’s senses were still sharpened by adrenaline, but there was no sign of the men who had been attacking Gilli. Merlin kept Gilli occupied with chatter and bad jokes, and even managed to get a fully-fledged smile out of him, albeit a rather watery one, once or twice. 

Merlin settled him on the couch with his ankle propped up on a wobbly pile of pillows. Now that the fighting was over, Arthur felt unsure of what to do. It was becoming very clear that the pair of them had just dragged an almost-stranger out of danger and back to Merlin’s home. An almost-stranger that didn’t seem too keen on telling them exactly what was going on. Arthur felt uncomfortable and unsure, something he didn’t enjoy. Merlin, on the other hand, seemed relaxed. He was busy, talking to Gilli, bringing him another blanket, making tea, all the while exuding this happy energy, like this was a completely normal event.

It was working to put the injured young man at ease. Gilli was talking, and laughing, which was why it surprised Arthur when Merlin asked after the men who attacked him, and he froze, and shook his head.

“I can’t tell you. I’ll be fine, really. Look, thanks for everything, but I should go.”

Merlin pressed again, but still Gilli refused. Merlin cast Arthur a look, before giving in, and letting Gilli leave.

“I don’t feel good about this,” Merlin said in a low voice, as he walked Arthur to the door, “he has magic. They all did. I could feel it. But it felt odd. Different.”

Arthur clenched his jaw. He didn’t feel good letting the kid go back to whatever was out there waiting for him, but he wasn’t sure what else they could do. Merlin was clearly worried - about Gilli, but also something bigger. His fingers were tapping against his leg at a fast pace, and there was a line forming between his brows. Arthur held in the urge to smooth it out, putting his own hands in his pockets. 

“Well, I guess there’s nothing else to do,” Merlin said, and Arthur could tell he was still trying to figure out some kind of solution.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he said, in a commanding tone. 

Merlin laughed. “Like what? Running towards yelling in an alley in the middle of the night?”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “If I recall, you went charging towards it, too.”

“Someone had to keep you from getting killed. ‘Prince of Wales found magically stabbed next to skip’ isn’t exactly the best PR for magic users.”

“Mm,” Arthur agreed. “Well, thanks all the same.” He was grateful, he realised, as the emotion swelled in his chest, forMerlin’s stupid bravery, and his willingness to stay by his side. 

“Any time,” Merlin said.

Arthur looked down. “I was wrong, before. The tattoo. It does suit you.” He couldn’t help pressing a hand briefly to Merlin’s chest as he spoke. 

Merlin looked at him, and smiled before his eyes flitted to Arthur’s cheek, and Arthur remembered the cut there. It had changed from a stinging pain to an ache. Merlin stepped closer.

He reached out, and drew his finger along the sensitive skin below the wound. He was close enough now that Arthur felt energy burning in the space between them. He wanted to kiss him again. He thought Merlin might’ve been thinking the same thing. His eyes dropped to Arthur’s lips. 

“Do you want me to heal this?”

Arthur blinked. “Heal it? With magic? Is that possible.”

Merlin nodded. “It’s never been my strongest skill, but something this basic is easy.”

“Yes,” Arthur said immediately. 

A smile snuck into Merlin’s eyes, and he moved his fingers right above the cut. 

Arthur watched the gold light up his eyes again, and there was a burning glow on his cheek before the pain vanished.

“All done,” Merlin said, and stepped back.

Arthur touched the newly-healed skin, and shook his head in amazement. 

“How is it that everyone we’ve spoken to, even those men who ambushed Gilli - they all needed incantations, or spellbooks, something to channel their power, and you just— do that?”

Merlin shrugged, and let his shoulders slump, like he was trying to appear smaller. “It’s always been like that.”

Arthur dropped his hand from his face, his skin still hot from the magic. Merlin looked over his shoulder at the mess of blankets and bloody tissues on the couch and table. “I should get that cleaned up before Gwen and Gwaine come home.”

“Of course. I should go home.” Arthur felt he had crossed some line, but he wasn’t sure what it was. He opened the door, and turned back to Merlin, hoping there would be some clarity there. Merlin smiled at him, genuinely. Some of the concern eased. Arthur smiled back tightly, and then left. His mind stayed occupied with thoughts of Merlin the whole walk home, until he saw his father’s car parked outside his flat, and his stomach dropped.

* * *

Merlin woke up the next morning with a slight headache, and an aching worry. Not a hangover; worry. Sure, kissing the Prince against a wall in an alley wasn’t the best choice, nor was using magic on him, but Merlin stood by those choices. He was worried about Gilli. There was something about the way he had talked, and the things he _hadn’t_ said, that made Merlin sure that there was more here than met the eye.

It was cold, and his socks were worn. Even the mug of tea in his hand didn’t feel warm enough to melt the chill in his fingers. After a lunch he barely tasted, Merlin decided to go to Arthur’s. He might have an idea about what to do, and it was better than sitting at home worrying. He was let into the flat by a surly security guard, only to run into Morgana who was getting ready to leave.

“You do not want to go in there. He’s angry, and not willing to talk about it,” Morgana said. “Our father paid him a visit, and that never ends well.”

“Oh,” Merlin said, “I didn’t know. I should—”

Morgana was staring at him appraisingly. She tapped her cigarette case against her leg. Merlin shifted under her stare. 

“On second thought, I think it’d be best if you go talk to him.”

“You just said it’s best to leave him alone when this happens. You said he’s mad. I don’t want my head bitten off. I’m quite fond of it.”

Morgana smirked. “Go on,” she said, leading him away from the door with a firm hand on his back. Her face softened into sincerity, and she gave him a look Merlin couldn’t quite decipher. “Please. I think you can help.” 

And then it was decided. Merlin cautiously opened the door, and slipped into the room. 

Arthur was sitting on the floor. He didn’t look up as Merlin entered, softly closing the door behind him. His jaw was set, and he was staring ahead at the wall. The thick curtains were drawn, and his phone was the only light in the room, discarded, and ringing on the floor next to him. 

Merlin gently sat down next to him, taking the time to look closer at Arthur’s face. It was stone. The look in his eyes - dark, and cloistered, and hurt - sent a pang of hopelessness through Merlin. He didn’t know how to help, but Lord, it was all he wanted to do. Fix this, make it better; give Arthur anything he needed.

Not that the other man was giving any indication of what that might be, but Merlin had a general idea. He stretched his legs, and eased his way behind Arthur so he was between his legs, his back almost touching Merlin’s chest. 

Arthur didn’t respond, and so Merlin placed cautious hands on his arms, and squeezed. Arthur stiffened, before sighing, and Merlin felt his muscles relax, just slightly. His posture eased the smallest amount, but his jaw stayed still, and tight. 

Merlin rubbed his hands down Arthur’s arms before gently squeezing him into a hug.

“What are you doing?” Arthur’s voice sounded brittle, and Merlin resisted the urge to tighten the embrace in response.

“I’m hugging you?” he said. “Surely you know what a hug is; you’re not that dim-witted,” Merlin tried to tease. 

“It’s what Morgana forces on me on Christmas and birthdays,” Arthur said, with only a shadow of humour. 

“Well, now, that we’ve established you’re familiar with the concept…” the rest of the joke died in his throat. Simultaneously, he had the thoughts that surely Arthur had been hugged more than that, and then the sinking realisation that it made sense that he hadn’t. “Is this okay? Do you want me to stop?” he asked. 

Arthur shook his head, and slowly placed his hands over Merlin’s. “Don’t stop.” His voice was soft, but insistent, and Merlin was struck by the urge to never let go. 

He wrapped his arms tighter around Arthur’s chest. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

It only took a minute before Arthur spoke again. “It’s just the usual shit. He doesn’t want me doing this, you know, studying here with Morgause. Thinks it’s useless and soft. I can’t tell him that I’m doing it because of him. I don’t want to be like him. I want to be better, but sometimes it feels like things are closing in around me, and the only way out is to follow whatever path he’s laid out for me.”

Merlin thought about that. He thought about how Arthur had these moments of kindness and openness. He thought about how much he must have had to fight to be here in the first place.

“I think, maybe, the fact that you’re still fighting and learning,” he started, “I think that’s proof you won’t ever just blindly follow the way you’re told.”

Merlin wasn’t sure what else to say. He ran his thumb over the knuckles of Arthur’s clenched fist. He felt helpless, and it was that, more than anything else, that led him to press a kiss against the exposed skin right above Arthur’s collarbone. 

Arthur let out a small sigh, and eased back against him, so Merlin did it again. This time Arthur shivered, and turned back to look at him. The dark settled look still hadn’t faded, but there was something more there, too, a need that made something in Merlin’s gut tighten and burn. 

“Merlin,” Arthur said, his voice somewhere between a whisper and a growl.

Merlin kissed him again, his teeth scraping the taut skin before he sucked at it gently. Arthur moaned, and leaned back, granting Merlin easier access to his neck where Merlin kissed a line down the smooth skin. Arthur’s breath came out in a rough sigh, and Merlin sucked harder against the skin, just to see whether he could hear that noise again.

Arthur indulged him, and shivered, and parted his lips, and God, he looked like a work of art like this. Merlin grazed his lips against the soft curve of Arthur’s ear. “You are infuriatingly handsome,” he whispered, because it was true. Arthur’s response was somewhere between a laugh and a groan, and Merlin thought that people had probably been calling Arthur handsome all his life. So he kissed his neck again, sucking just hard enough to make Arthur arch his back, before he whispered in his ear again. “You’re also stupidly brave.” Another kiss, this one on the rough underside of Arthur’s jaw. “And unbelievably kind, as long as you’re too distracted to act like an ass.”

Arthur laughed again, mostly breath. “Do you think you could manage a compliment that’s not also somehow an insult?”

His question faded into a whimper, half swallowed back down his throat as Merlin licked the curve of his ear, and then dragged the lobe between his teeth. “No,” he replied. He kissed Arthur’s neck again, sucking slightly harder this time. His hand drifted across the hard muscles of Arthur’s stomach, and brushed along the hem of his shirt, slipping over the coarse blonde hairs that spread across his navel. 

“Merlin,” Arthur said, turning to face him. The look on his face was still dark and clouded, but there was something else there. He leaned towards Merlin with eyes that begged for something he couldn’t verbalise. Merlin couldn’t have said no, even if he’d wanted to, but Lord, did he want to give him whatever he needed at this moment. He grabbed Arthur’s neck, and pulled him into a kiss. It felt different this time, a frantic pull between them, Arthur’s hands everywhere on his body at once, tugging him closer and closer, until he fell back on the floor, and pulled Merlin down on top of him. Every inch of their bodies pressed together. Merlin could feel Arthur’s hot, insistent erection pressing into his stomach as he slid his thigh in between Arthur’s. 

Skimming his hands underneath Merlin’s shirt, Arthur tugged him closer, pulling away for a moment to catch his breath. The intensity of Arthur’s expression made Merlin pause. He pressed a hand to his chest, and kissed him again, gently, softly, trying to convey the tender mix of emotions that were turning him inside out. 

Arthur let out a shuddering breath, and shut his eyes. Merlin rolled off him, but didn’t break contact, so Arthur rolled to his side too. “Hey,” he said. “Is this okay?”

“God, yes, please,” Arthur kissed him again, one of his hands slipping into Merlin’s back pocket.

“What do you need?” Merlin asked between the kisses he was planting along Arthur’s collarbone. 

“Just… you. Please, Merlin,” Arthur said, threading his hands through Merlin’s hair, and pulling him back up to claim his lips. The closeness of Arthur here, the heat of his tongue against Merlin’s, of his body, the neediness of these kisses, the idea that Merlin could be the one to give him what he needed, to help him back from whatever dark place his father’s visit had landed him in - it threaded hot desire through Merlin’s system. He shifted his body so that there was just enough space between them for him to run his hand along Arthur’s chest. He moved it slowly, cautious, but deliberate, down the burning stretch of Arthur’s torso. 

He hesitated, looking at Arthur who bit his lip and nodded. “Please.”

Merlin cupped the outline of his cock through his jeans, and Arthur bucked into the touch, reaching down to undo the button and zipper with one hand. Merlin tried not to stare as he tugged the jeans and pants down, and his cock slipped out, already so erect.

Arthur’s eyes were closed, his head thrown back in anticipation of Merlin’s touch. Merlin didn’t kiss him; not yet. He wanted to watch Arthur’s face as he wrapped his hand around the firm heat of his cock. He groaned, and thrust against Merlin’s fingers, and Merlin watched as pleasure flushed out any remaining tension in Arthur’s features. 

Merlin gripped him, and moved his hand along his shaft. He loved the feel of Arthur in his hand, soft, satin skin stretched over the solid heat of him. He loved how open Arthur’s face looked in this moment; loved how he could see his every reaction to each change of pressure or speed. 

“God, you look so good like this.”

Arthur moaned in response, and Merlin kissed his bottom lip. He increased his speed, slipped his thumb over the top of Arthur's cock, smoothing the gathering moisture down over the ridge. 

“So good,” he repeated, and sucked a spot on Arthur’s neck that made his breath stutter, and his hands curl against Merlin’s arms. Arthur reached towards him, hooking his fingers through his belt to Merlin closer, before reaching for his flies. And God, Merlin was aching for him, for the feel of his hands, even the friction of being pressed against his stomach, anything. Still, he gently pushed Arthur’s hand away. 

“Not now,” he said “this is just for you. Let me do this for you.”

Arthur looked like he was going to argue, so Merlin kissed him again, and increased the speed of his hand. Arthur’s grip tightened, and his breathing grew shallow and rough. Merlin broke away - he had to watch this, had to see Arthur’s face, and know he’d done that to him. He had to bite his own lip to keep control, and stop himself from rubbing against Arthur’s legs, and finishing just like that. 

“Merlin,” Arthur hissed.

“Are you close?”

“Yes.” Arthur’s hips bucked against him as Merlin loosened his grip.

“Come for me.” Merlin might have been embarrassed if Arthur didn’t look so damn wrecked by the words. He came immediately, as if Merlin’s words had been some kind of command. His body shook, and he buried his head in Merlin’s neck, chest heaving, his whole body flushed pink, and gleaming with perspiration. 

Arthur stayed like that, tucked against Merlin’s body. His breathing slowed, evening out, and eventually he drifted into sleep. Merlin was careful to extract himself without jostling the other man too much. He thought about lifting him to the bed, but instead settled on putting a pillow under his head, and tucking a blanket over him. 

It only took moments, after shutting the bedroom door, before he had himself in hand, and was coming, visions of Arthur’s face, and needy kisses filling his mind. Every light bulb in the room shattered as he came. 


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur woke up with his body feeling warm and heavy. His muscles were more relaxed than he was used to. Memories of the argument with his father were overshadowed by the memories of Merlin’s arms wrapped around him, sweet, soft, earnest words; his hands on him. Arthur swallowed as his blood rushed at the memory. His hand drifted down his stomach, and wrapped around his cock. He brought himself off, and let himself rest in the afterglow, before worry started to creep into his gut. They’d crossed a line. That wasn’t just kissing practice. Not just the touching - although, that was more than they’d agreed to - but the words. The look on Merlin’s face. The way that it was the first time that anyone had been able to do anything with the deep, impenetrable ache that bloomed through him after disagreements with his father. That felt more intimate than any kind of touch. 

Shit. No feelings. That had been a clear rule. There was no indication that Merlin was having trouble following it, but here Arthur was, fighting the sneaking suspicion that he _needed_ Merlin. He spent the afternoon trying to focus on his work, but it wasn’t enough to keep his mind occupied. It didn’t help that every mention of magic drew his mind back to Merlin.

Arthur went for a run. Fast and hard, until his legs and lungs burned. He ended up at Percival’s gym, and was immensely grateful for his friend’s tendency not to ask too many questions - and his ability to hand out a hell of a fight. 

Much later, he took off the boxing gloves, and tried to focus on the ache of his muscles, instead of the tangle of confusing emotions in his chest, when his phone lit up. 

“It’s Gilli,” was all Merlin said, and Arthur was sprinting out the door. 

Merlin opened the door to his flat before Arthur knocked. 

He faltered for a moment, a delightful blush creeping up his face as his eyes lingered on Arthur’s neck. Arthur’s hand moved quickly to the tender spots on his neck, and his thoughts drifted to the previous night, and thoughts of Merlin’s hot breath and mouth on him. Both of them quickly snapped out of it. Merlin’s face fell serious, and he grabbed Arthur’s arm, and dragged him towards his bedroom. 

“He won’t let me take him to hospital. I was able to stop the bleeding, but he’s still pretty badly torn up. He’s still saying he can’t tell us what’s going on.”

Gilli was sitting on the floor with his head resting against Merlin’s bed. There was crusted blood in his hair, and around his nose. Even from the door, Arthur could see the tremor in his hands as he brushed hair off his forehead. Merlin looked at him nervously, and Arthur settled down in front of Gilli. 

“All right,” Arthur began. He tried to keep his voice serious, twinged slightly with an air of authority. It was the voice he used when he gave his friends pep talks, or when Morgana used to insist she was running away from home. “I know you’re scared, but this is how this is going to go. You are going to tell us exactly what is going on: who these men are, and what they have on you. We can protect you—” his eyes flickered to Merlin, who gave him a small smile and a nod, “I promise you. We won’t let any harm come to you. But we can only do that if we know everything. So you’re going to tell us, and then we’ll do what we need to do to keep you safe.”

Gilli’s breathing had slowed whilst Arthur was speaking. He nodded at Arthur, and looked at Merlin whose shoulders Arthur felt relax beside him. Merlin pressed a steaming cup of tea into Gilli’s hands, who stared at it before taking a deep breath, and looking up at the both of them.

“I came to the city after my father died. I— I just wanted to find somewhere where I fit in, you know? Malford found me performing magic tricks outside the Iseldir Fair. He helped me get a booth inside, gave me a place to stay. I kind of fell into going to meetings with them. It took a while before they trusted me. I was just an errand boy for a year. I didn’t know what they were doing.” Gilly stopped, and gave Merlin a pleading look. “I promise. I didn’t know what they were doing. Not until it was too late. I swear. They control… everything.”

“Who are they?” Arthur asked, carefully.

“They call themselves The Devourers. They practise dark magic. They attack civilians. The Letting Fires, that was them. But I didn’t know. They also practise absorption magic. They all do. It’s how they’re so strong.”

Arthur felt Merlin shudder next to him, and made a note to ask what absorption magic was after this was over.

“I wanted to leave once I found out, but they own me - every part of my life that I’ve built. My home. My job… my… my magic.” Gilli sat up more. The tea sloshed over his hands onto the carpet, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Gilli,” Merlin said. His voice was tense. Arthur looked between them. The panic on Gilli’s face was echoed in Merlin’s eyes.

“They have it. My ring. Without it, my magic is gone. I can’t… I can’t do magic without my ring, and they have it. Merlin, they have it.” He grasped at Merlin’s arm. The teacup dropped to the floor.

“The priority is getting you out of here alive and safe,” Arthur said. 

Gilli shook his head. His eyes were fixed on Merlin. 

Merlin’s jaw clenched. “Arthur’s right,” he said slowly. 

Gilli scrambled to his feet. “No. No. You have to understand. I know you understand. I’m nothing without my magic. I can’t. I can’t. Please.”

“Listen,” Merlin said. He stood, too, and placed a hand on Gilli’s shoulder. “I promise you. We’re going to get your ring. But right now, we’re going to get you out of here. Somewhere they can’t touch you. But after that’s done—” he looked at Arthur with eyes almost as wide and pleading as Gilli’s. 

“We’ll get your ring to you,” Arthur found himself promising, before even thinking through what that meant. 

Gilli looked between them and half-sat, half-fell back to the floor. 

“You’re going to tell Merlin everything you can about these Devourers. I have a few calls to make.” 

Arthur walked to Merlin’s kitchen. He called Leon first. He didn’t ask too many questions. Arthur was sure to get an interrogation about it later, but Leon could hear the urgency in Arthur’s voice, and agreed to everything Arthur asked. 

Arthur had just hung up the last call when Merlin emerged from his room with a stony face. He ran his hands through his hair, and slumped down onto the stool next to Arthur.

“It’s bad,” he said. “This organisation is twisted. They can track his magical signature, so there’s nowhere safe we can bring him around here. But we have to get him out of here now, before they find him. I can’t put Gwen or Gwaine at risk like that. He doesn’t have any family left. Please tell me you have a plan, because beyond just going into their headquarters and lighting everything on fire, I have nothing.”

“Would Scotland be far enough away?” Arthur asked.

The bright, bewildered smile that Merlin gave him lit something deep in Arthur’s chest. 

“I think that’d do the trick, but how the hell are we getting him to Scotland. And what’s in Scotland?”

“We just have to get him to the airfield. There’s a safehouse in Scotland. Fully stocked. He should be safe there while we sort out what’s going on with this weird cult. Or group.” 

Merlin shook his head; the grin hadn’t faded from his face. “You snap your fingers, and it all falls into place, huh?”

Arthur shrugged. Earlier, he might have been offended. But Merlin was right, in a way, and he could tell there was no malice in his words. “It’s just good to be able to use it for something actually worthwhile.”

Gilli was hesitant, but after Merlin’s repeated promise that they would get the ring, he agreed. Leon brought the car, and only gave Arthur one meaningful look before he got out and let Arthur into the driver’s seat. Gilli slouched low in the back. 

They had only been driving a few minutes when Arthur noticed the car behind them. They weren’t exactly being subtle, following close enough that Arthur could see them shadowing each turn they made. 

Merlin noticed him looking in the rearview mirror, and gave him a sharp look. Arthur nodded, and made another quick turn that the car behind them copied. 

He sped up, turning in the opposite direction than they needed to go. 

Merlin braced himself, and Gilli looked behind them with a panicked look. 

It took a few fast turns, and some careful manoeuvring, but Arthur was pretty sure he was going to lose them. He sped around another corner, only to see a red light that surely meant their tail would catch up. 

“Just go,” Merlin said softly, beside him. 

“What? Merlin, I appreciate your confidence, but there is no way we can make it through without getting hit.”

“Trust me. Go.”

So Arthur did - and amazingly, all the traffic around them froze. He looked at Merlin who was raising both his hands, gold eyes fixed on Arthur. 

They made it to the airfield. Gilli got on the helicopter with their assurances that they’d send the ring as soon as they could. Arthur gave the pilot a generous tip, and they were off.

The wind from the plane whipped Merlin’s hair as he jumped and waved at the departing lights. He turned to Arthur with a wild smile on his face. 

“We just did that,” he laughed. “That was like a fucking action movie.”

His own relief, and Merlin’s pure joy, spread through Arthur like melting butter. “It appears we did,” he said, putting all his effort into keeping his voice level and calm.

Merlin laughed. “I suppose that was just another typical day for you, eh? High-speed car chases, dashing escapes into the night, rescuing… citizens in distress?”

Arthur grinned. “What else do you think princes do in all their free time?” His smile faltered as he thought about the chase to the airfield. “That thing you did with the traffic. You’re really powerful aren’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah, I think I am.” Merlin looked at him, and grinned. The look on his face was somehow both sheepish and proud. It made Arthur nudge Merlin with his shoulder. Merlin fell away dramatically, and rubbed his shoulder, but when he settled back he was closer to Arthur, so their arms were pressed together, the warmth of it, comforting and right against the cold night air. 

“So, no one knows this. You just walk around all day with all this power, and no one knows.”

“You do,” Merlin said, and then added, “ Well, and my mum. And Gaius. And Will and Freya. And now Gilli, I suppose.”

“You don’t really get the concept of a secret, do you Merlin?”

“Well. No one else. And not even Will and Freya really know how much magic I have, or what I can do. They found out by mistake, back when I was worse at controlling it. And my mum was so scared of what would happen if anyone found out, that I never really showed them.”

“What did she think would happen?”

“Not that she thought Will or Freya would do something bad if they knew. But she was just so scared of anyone knowing. She worried all the time. You know how mothers—” Merlin broke off for a moment. Clearly remembering that Arthur probably didn’t really know how mothers were. 

“I think I understand,” Arthur said. He had more vague impressions of his mother than actual memories, but really, it wasn’t like he had never seen a portrayal of the kind of protective energy Merlin was describing. 

“Anyway, I think she thought people would be afraid. Of me. That they’d lock me up, or turn me into some kind of weapon.”

“I’m not afraid,” Arthur said. 

The look Merlin gave him was indecipherable. Sharp and full of heat. “I know.”

“Show me?” Arthur asked. They were far outside the city, in a place with a security fence, that only a handful of people knew how to access. It was past one in the morning. If there was a place it would be safe to ask this, it was here. 

Merlin smiled. A wicked smile, that grew until it lit his whole face. “Really?”

Arthur nodded, and Merlin stepped a few paces back from the car, flexing his fingers. His eyes flashed gold, and then a small flame erupted in his palm.

Conjuring fire was something they had seen a dozen people do at the fair. Arthur gave Merlin a challenging smile, who returned it with a wide grin. 

He flicked his wrist, and the flame grew, and then spun into the air around them, creating a circle of suspended fire that grew into a wall. Just as the heat of it reached them, Merlin closed his hand, and it flickered out. No ash or soot, or any reminder left, except the faint glow in Merlin’s eyes. 

Arthur felt his pulse increase, not quite out of fear. 

“More?” Merlin asked.

Arthur nodded. Merlin curled his long fingers, and nothing happened at first, beyond a slight breeze that stirred the hair against his neck. Merlin’s eyes were focused on the sky, and Arthur looked up as he heard the creaking of steel. One of the aeroplanes had lifted off the ground, and was circling in the air above them. 

Arthur looked between Merlin and the plane. He knew he should say something that properly showed that he was impressed. “Do you know how to land that thing? Because you’re paying for it if you crash it.”

Merlin winked at him. “Good thing I have friends in high places,” he said, and then spread his fingers. The plane exploded. Arthur grabbed Merlin’s arm, and tugged him back out of the way, before he realised that it hadn’t been an explosion, not really. The plane had transformed into a flock of paper birds. They were swooping around them now, and Arthur shook his head in awe. The birds flew away, and reformed into the plane, which Merlin lowered gently back where it had been before. 

He turned to Aruthur with an expectant smile. 

Arthur stepped towards him. There was something about Merlin casually wielding all this power in a way that seemed so natural that undid Arthur. The thrill of the night’s escape was still coursing through him.

“You just— what’s the limit of what you can do?” Arthur asked, sensing he already knew the answer.

“I haven’t found one yet,” Merlin said, “though I haven’t really had the chance to try.”

Arthur didn’t think he was thinking clearly when he reached out and took one of Merlin’s hands in his own. He knew he wasn’t thinking clearly after. His skin was warm, hot in the same way that Merlin’s tattoo was, carrying residual magic that was electric against Arthur’s skin. He traced his thumb along each digit, lingering on the soft pads of Merlin’s outstretched fingers. 

Merlin sighed softly, and Arthur looked up to see his eyes flutter shut, his tongue wetting his lips. 

Arthur’s lips were on him before the thought finished forming in his head. It was frenzied, like each charged moment of the night was inevitably leading to this kiss. Merlin’s hands were hot everywhere against his skin, grasping at his back, tugging in his hair, dipping just below the waistband of his jeans. 

Merlin’s lips and tongue were warm and insistent, eager in a way that sparked arousal through every part of Arthur. The feel of their bodies pressed together was overwhelming and, God, Arthur needed more. Arthur broke away to take a breath, and Merlin kissed his neck, his teeth scraping along the tender skin where he’d left a mark the night before. Arthur groaned, and tugged Merlin back up to kiss him again, pressing their bodies close, the heat of his growing erection meeting Merlin’s. Arthur felt a force that pushed him closer, so that they stumbled back until Merlin was leaning against the side of the car, and was grounded as Arthur thrust his hips forward.

Merlin broke away, out of breath. “God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” 

His eyes were wide with concern and Arthur realised, belatedly, that the force he had felt had been Merlin’s magic. A realisation, frankly, that was far hotter than it had any right to be. 

“It’s fine,” Arthur said with a rough voice. “It’s really really fine.” 

He ran his hand up Merlin’s thigh, and kissed him again, slower this time, but still hard. Merlin moaned into his mouth. Arthur knew he couldn’t come close to giving Merlin what he had given Arthur last night, at least, not the tender reassurance and emotional clarity. But he wanted to try to give him something that felt just as good as Merlin’s fingers had felt. He moved his hand to the front of Merlin’s trousers, cupping the heat of his cock through the material. Merlin’s breath stuttered, but Arthur wanted more. He fumbled with one hand to undo the belt.

“Wait, Arthur,” Merlin said in a strained voice, as Arthur undid his zipper. Arthur jerked away immediately, but was reassured as Merlin pulled him back. 

“There’s something you should know.” Merlin looked down. There was no trace of his previous confidence. “My magic… it’s not always like this. I can’t always control it. It just comes out, sometimes. In ways I don’t mean it to, and can’t control. I’ve never hurt anyone, or anything like that. Well, unless you count barns as someone. But it’s harder to control when I’m feeling a lot of things. And before, when we’ve been… doing things, I’ve felt it going a bit mad.”

Arthur bit his lip, and tried to look serious. He let his hand rest back on Merlin’s thigh. “Is feeling a lot of things a euphemism for coming?”

Merlin rolled his eyes, and smiled. “No! It usually happens when I’m really angry, or happy, or scared, or excited, but it never happened with that before we started.--”

Arthur grinned. 

“Oh, don’t look so pleased with yourself. It’s probably just because it’s just more…”

“More mind-blowingly awesome?” Arthur suggested, as he moved his hand back over Merlin’s crotch, and skated his fingers around the outline of his erection.

Merlin’s breath hitched, and he pushed into Arthur’s touch. Arthur knew that the pride swelling in his chest was evident on his face. He trailed his fingers along the top of Merlin’s jeans, brushing against the bare skin of his stomach, and kissed Merlin’s open mouth.

“I’m serious, Arthur, I don’t know what’ll happen,” Merlin murmured against his lips. 

The idea that all this power inside Merlin might boil over at any moment just because of Arthur’s hands and mouth was thrilling. He undid the button on Merlin’s trousers, and tugged them down. Merlin’s cock was straining against the fabric of his pants. Arthur let out a breathy moan at the sight of him. 

“I really, really don’t mind,” Arthur said, wrapping his fingers around Merlin to prove his point. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” Merlin said, and his head fell backwards as Arthur slid his hand under his underwear, and grasped him. Merlin felt good in his hand, but Arthur wanted more - wanted to give him more. 

He fell roughly to his knees, and pressed a hesitant kiss against Merlin’s thigh. “How about this?”

“Yes,” Merlin said, with a sharp intake of breath, “though I can’t guarantee—” he moaned, as Arthur’s breath blew against his bare cock, “I won’t destroy any of the planes.”

“I’ll pay for them,” Arthur said, and licked his lips. 

He took Merlin in his mouth too eagerly at first. His cock hit the back of his throat, and Arthur released him with a cough. Determinedly, he slowly worked him back into his mouth, taking time to appreciate the heavy heat of him. The taste. The noises Merlin made as he relaxed his throat, and slowly took him deeper. Arthur relaxed into it. Let himself focus just on the feel of it, and the soft words of praise Merlin was whispering. He grasped his own cock as he sped up the pace, egged on by Merlin’s words, until Merlin called out just as a crack of thunder echoed from the sky.

~~~Merlin woke up crusty-eyed and tired, but still feeling the rush of the previous night through every inch of his body. Unable to get back to sleep, he threw on a sweatshirt and stumbled down to the kitchen. He had made tea, and was starting on his breakfast, when Gwaine came in. He promptly stole Merlin’s mug of tea, and sat down at the stool, watching Merlin prepare another for himself. Drawn by the noise, or the smell of tea, Gwen emerged from her room, wrapped in a thick robe, and stretching. Merlin was making a cup of tea for her as well when Gwaine interrupted the domestic silence. “So tell me something, Merlin. Are you fucking the Prince of Wales?”

Merlin choked on his tea. 

Gwen quickly raised the newspaper, one from several days ago, to cover her face, but Merlin could tell she was laughing by the shake of her shoulders. 

“No!” Merlin protested. They weren’t… fucking necessarily. Although they seemed to be doing a lot more than kissing recently. He flushed at the memory of last night - it probably would be considered fucking, depending on your definition. He realised he had been quiet for too long, and Gwaine was still looking at him expectantly. “We’re friends!” he insisted, and supposed that was, at least, not a lie. What had been developing between them was friendship. It just also involved… kissing. “Why would you ask that?” 

“His mates seem to think you are,” Gwaine said, as he reached over the kitchen island to grab a fork from the drawer, and take a bite of Merlin’s breakfast.

Merlin could feel the flush on his cheeks rising, aware that it did nothing to strengthen his denial. “And how do you know that?”

“I’ve been going to Percival’s gym. He’s been training me in boxing. He’s quite good at it. Also been sucking my cock. He’s quite good at that, too.”

Merlin spluttered slightly. He shouldn’t be surprised really. Gwen put down the newspaper, and rolled her eyes as she accepted the mug of tea Merlin offered her.

“So what, between the training, and the cock sucking, the two of you have been discussing the Crown Prince’s personal life?”

“You say that like it hasn’t been a national pastime since the poor man became a teenager,” Gwen interjected. 

“Gwen Smith, I’m shocked! One night spent with Princess Morgana, and you’re a royalist now?”

Gwen pushed a curl behind her ear, and gave Merlin a scolding look. “Hardly. I don’t even think Morgana herself is a royalist. I just feel bad for Arthur is all. He really is decent. It’s hard not to like him once you’ve met him.”

Merlin was afraid he had to agree. Their disastrous first meeting aside, Arthur really was very likable. Too likeable. That was maybe part of the problem he was facing now. 

Gwaine shrugged in agreement with Gwen, and took another bite of Merlin’s breakfast. “He is unfortunately likable. Although, the last time we saw him he looked like he wanted to beat my face in. See, that’s another thing. Anytime anyone touches you around him, he glares at them like they’ve taken his favourite toy.”

“That’s just not true,” Merlin objected. 

“He does seem rather protective of you. And he dropped you off at almost three in the morning last night,” Gwen interjected, with an innocent smile twitching on her lips. 

“How do you know that was him?” Merlin said.

“Mate, if you had other friends who drove Aston Martins, I hardly think you’d be buying cheap tea, and having stale toast for breakfast,” Gwaine said.

“You seem to be enjoying it well enough,” he said and grumpily stabbed at a piece of toast with a fork. The euphoria of the previous night seemed to be draining with each teasing question. It wasn’t that he minded being teased like this, really. It’s just that it hit a little too close to the question that had been bothering Merlin the past few weeks. What exactly were he and Arthur doing? It was easy to put off the banter, and jokes, and easy conversation as friendship. Not flirting. The kissing was practice. Two friends helping one another out. Easy. 

Except, it wasn’t just that anymore. At least, not for Merlin. As much as he tried not to think about the swelling yearning for _more_ every time he was around Arthur, it was getting undeniable. He had wanted to ask Arthur to come in last night, and not just because he had wanted to get off again. He’d had the urge to wrap Arthur in his arms, and sleep like that, to wake up with him there next to him. Things like that were starting to feel overwhelming. And he had no idea what Arthur was thinking. No feelings - that had been a clear rule at the beginning, along with not telling anyone. Because the Prince probably wasn’t even allowed to have feelings for someone with no title or money. Or a bloke. Who had magic. Sure, Arthur had come in Merlin’s hands, but who was to say whether that was anything besides a convenient orgasm to him? They had one practice kiss left, Merlin realised. What was going to happen once that was done? The more he thought, the more his stomach twisted in knots. He suddenly felt nauseated. He pushed his plate towards Gwaine, and stood. His magic, which had seemed quiet and content since his display the night, before was rising to the top of his skin again. He stuck his hands in his pockets.

“Are you okay?” Gwen asked. 

“Fine,” Merlin said quickly, ignoring the concern on his roommates' faces. “I’ve gotta go.” He grabbed the coat off the back of his chair, and slung it on. He was walking towards the door when he heard a phone vibrating against the table. 

Gwen reached over, and grabbed his arm. “Don’t forget your phone,” she said, and handed it to him with a quick glance at the screen, “It’s, uh, Arthur,” she said, unable to contain her smile. Merlin grabbed the phone, hoping Gwen didn’t notice how it flew the last few centimetres from her hand to his, and walked out the door. 

He didn’t answer his phone. He took a deep breath to calm the magic rising hot and bright in his hands. The now-familiar spring-like scent of woods, and something almost floral, greeted him along with the deep smell of leather. This was Arthur’s coat. He’d left it during their mad rush to get Gilli to safety last night. Great. It wouldn’t do to go back in now, after his dramatic exit, and explaining that he had grabbed Arthur’s coat by mistake would only add fuel to his friends’ speculation. He knew he should call Arthur back, but he trudged towards the library instead. He needed to get his thoughts in order, before he talked to him, and he wanted to see what he could find about absorption magic, or anything about The Devourers, anyway. 

* * *

Merlin didn’t pick up his phone or respond to his text. Which was fine. Really. Arthur wasn’t upset. Only, Merlin had promised a near-stranger that both of them would break into a certainly-evil organisation's magical lair in order to steal back a piece of jewellery for him, which was a pretty big promise, and Arthur thought they should probably start planning how, exactly, they were going to find the place which was apparently shielded by several kinds of spells. His apprehension about hearing back from Merlin had nothing to do with the fact that they had crossed another line last night with their… encounter… and Arthur was pretty sure that he’d given away too much of the thoughts and feelings he’d been unsuccessfully chasing away the past few weeks. 

Arthur agreed when Leon asked him to go for a run, but the exercise wasn’t doing much to calm his nerves. 

“You waiting on a call?” Leon asked. 

Arthur put his phone back in his pocket quickly. “No, just… checking our pace,” he said, and increased the speed of his run, hoping that if they ran faster, Leon wouldn’t have the breath for intrusive questions. 

Arthur purposely did not check his phone again. Leon kept pace with him, not complaining about the increase in speed, or asking him any other questions. They left the park, and circled their route back towards the campus. Arthur was focusing on counting the trees they passed so his thoughts wouldn’t drift back to Merlin, when Leon slowed beside him, and called out, “Hello Merlin!” Arthur turned back towards his friend to see him shaking the hand of the man he had been determinedly not thinking about. 

Merlin, who was clutching a stack of books to his chest, and wearing Arthur’s jacket. Arthur did a double take. Yes, it was his jacket - soft black leather, adorned with a small, embroidered red dragon on the breast pocket. He’d left it at Merlin’s last night, he realised, hanging over the chair next to Merlin’s. Not that the explanation of why Merlin might be wearing it changed Arthur’s reaction. It felt like such a casual, intimate thing. He wondered if it smelled like him; if other people would see the shoulders, slightly too wide for Merlin, or the red dragon marking it, and realise that the jacket belonged to someone else. That Merlin did. Arthur shook that thought from his head. He didn’t have ownership over anyone, least of all Merlin. He brought himself out of his thoughts, and back to conversation in front of him, where Merlin was, apparently, addressing him.

“Sorry, I just saw you called. I was—” he lifted the stack of books in explanation.

Leon glanced between the two of them, before giving Arthur an amused smile that was far too smug for Arthur’s liking. 


	5. Chapter 5

In the end, finding the lair proved quite easy. Gilli’s directions had been good, and then it had only taken Merlin a moment to dispel the cloaking spells. Merlin spent a few minutes with his hand and ear pressed against a wooden door. His eyes flashed gold intermittently, and Arthur assumed he was undoing whatever spells were protecting the place. Gilli has assured Merlin that the house was only occupied at night, but Arthur kept his attention sharp for any noises that might indicate otherwise.

The door finally creaked open, and Arthur was hit by a strange herbal, smoky smell that stung the back of his throat. He held Merlin back with a hand on his shoulder, and stepped into the opening. It was dark, but behind him Merlin conjured a ball of light that cast a warm glow into the dark, dusty corners of the landing. The hallway led into one large room that was empty barring a few old armchairs in the corners, and shelves that were cluttered with jars and old books. Arthur saw Merlin eyeing the shelves of books with a longing expression. 

“I should have brought a bigger bag,” he said.

Arthur cast a scolding look back at him. “We’re here for the ring, and evidence of what it is they’re up to. If we go ransacking their library, they’re bound to know that someone was here.”

Merlin stepped away from the books, and smiled at Arthur sheepishly. He pulled out his phone and started taking photos of the shelves.

“You keep looking around out here,” Arthur said. “I think this room is the office.”

Arthur left Merlin to photograph any records he could find in the other rooms, as well as any artifacts. In the office, he felt on more familiar ground. Here, he knew what kinds of things to look for. There was a locked filing cabinet that Merlin took care of with a careless wave of his hand, before he went off to examine the other locked door. Arthur began combing through the disorganised financial documents. Whoever, these people were, they were well-financed. There were records of large transfers going back over twenty years, all from the same few accounts. Arthur took photos of the records, and sorted through receipts and memos, none of which seemed important. He was carefully placing the folders back when a piece of paper, stuffed and crumpled in the back corner of the cabinet, caught his eye. It was old. Clearly it had fallen out of some long discarded folder, and been pushed and wadded up by the new files. He took it out, and smoothed it out on the desk. His stomach sank as he recognised the distinctive handwriting of his father’s private secretary, Geoffrey. He had been reading this handwriting all his life, had seen it enough that it was unmistakable, even in a context he wasn’t expecting. His eyes scanned down to the bottom of the page looking for a signature. A flourishing “MG” sat at the bottom of the page - a reversal of Geoffrey’s initials he foolishly used in correspondances he wished to keep anonymous. 

Arthur forced himself to take a breath, and read the brief note from the start:

New source of funds. Gawant.  
Keep up the good work. More instructions will follow.

By the end, the bitter taste in his mouth was overwhelming. It could be innocuous, something easily explained away, but Arthur knew by the pit in his stomach that it wasn’t.

Merlin found him still crouching in front of the filing cabinet. Arthur quickly stood, and stuffed the letter, still balled in his fist, in his coat pocket. 

“I got the ring,” Merlin said, “and enough that I think I can figure out what they’re doing. Well, what they’re doing besidesdomestic terrorism.” His voice was grim, but it was something for Arthur to focus on beyond the whirl of his own thoughts. 

Apparently the chaos in his mind was showing on his face, because Merlin watched him closely the whole drive back. 

“Did you find anything useful?” Merlin asked cautiously, as Arthur parked in front of his flat. 

Arthur wanted to tell him. The amount he wanted to tell him should have unnerved him, and not just because he knew Merlin would be able to help him figure out exactly what it meant. He craved Merlin’s response - it would be a barometer of how he should be feeling. He was worried that Merlin would withdraw; that knowing Arthur’s father was capable of being involved in something like this would taint his opinion of Arthur. At the same time, he felt an insatiable urge for Merlin’s reassurance that he wasn’t like his father. Arthur swallowed. 

“I think… my father is involved with them. Financially,” Arthur said, his eyes focused on his hands grasping the steering wheel. 

Merlin’s expressive face danced through several emotions, before landing on confusion. “Your father? But he’s… against magic…”

“I could think of many reasons he would be supporting them, and none of them suggest he’s changed his mind about magic,” Arthur said.

“Oh, Arthur I—” His face shifted into a soft expression that Arthur sincerely hoped wasn’t pity. Merlin should be mad. Arthur’s father had financed a group that was responsible for the death of hundreds of people - responsible for doing something to the magical community they hadn’t quite sorted out yet, but definitely wasn’t anything good. Arthur was a part of his father, whether he liked it or not. 

Merlin reached out, and placed his hand over Arthur’s, his fingers falling in between Arthur’s on the steering wheel. Arthur turned back to him, already leaning towards Merlin like his mere presence was magnetic. 

“We’ll figure this out. Together. We’ll find out what they’re doing, and stop them. If your father’s involved, we’ll sort that out too.”

He made it sound simple. The confidence in his voice spread through Arthur, and he sighed as the tight ball of worry in his stomach loosened.

Merlin smiled at him, and lifted his other hand to brush the hair from Arthur’s forehead. His hand lingered on Arthur’s face, and Arthur’s eyes fluttered shut as he leaned in the remaining few inches between them.

Merlin stopped him right before they kissed. 

“This would be the sixth time,” Merlin whispered.

It took Arthur’s brain a moment to understand. Their kisses. Practice. They’d agreed to six practice sessions. Oh. Arthur pulled back. He hadn’t really been counting -hadn’t really thought of these kisses as practice since the first time he saw Merlin’s kiss-swollen lips, and wide eager eyes. But, of course, this was a temporary arrangement. He’d known that. He’d been tied in knots about it, embarrassingly enough. But he was never thinking about it when Merlin’s lips were on his, when his hands were on him. In those moments, what was between them seemed important and infinite. The idea that Merlin had been counting down their kisses while he was comforting Arthur, stroking him, whispering words and pleas into his ear, it twisted something bitter and cold in Arthur’s already-uneasy gut. 

“That’s not what I meant,” Merlin said, though Arthur wasn’t sure how he knew what Arthur was thinking.

Arthur straightened his back, and tried to look casual, as though no matter what Merlin was going to say, it wouldn’t bother him. 

“I just mean, maybe we should—” Merlin waved his hands in a gesture of finality.

Clearly, Arthur had already given away too much. Merlin opened his mouth, probably to explain in more detail, but Arthur couldn’t bear to hear him try to gently turn Arthur down.

“You’re right,” he interrupted. “It’s not like we’ve been treating the exercise as a learning experience recently. I think it’s fair to say we’d both be prepared for kissing anyone else. It’s better to stop now before things get needlessly complicated.” Arthur felt pretty proud of how easily the words came, maybe because he’d been worrying about Merlin saying them the past few weeks. He thought he’d managed an airy and casual tone, and was surprised by the look on Merlin’s face. 

“You know what? You’re right. That’s not what I was going to say, but you’re right. We’ve broken all the other rules already, but Lord knows, we wouldn’t want things to get complicated by silly little things like feelings.”

Merlin was angry, which was ridiculous, since Arthur was only helping him by ending things quickly and easily. No need for Merlin to worry about Arthur, or his worryingly broken heart. 

“I’m going home,” Merlin said, and when Arthur moved to put the car in reverse, Merlin opened the door. “I’ll walk,” he said, before exiting the car, and slamming the door.

* * *

Merlin slammed the door to his flat, and flung himself on to the settee. He was angry, and hurt, and still hadn’t been able to shake the cold, empty feeling that damn lair had given him. He wanted someone to tell him he was going to be okay, but no one else was home, and even if they were, he wouldn’t be able to explain everything that was wrong anyway. He wanted to talk to Arthur about the things they had seen. He wanted to hear Arthur’s decisive clarity as they came up with a solution together. He wanted to talk to Arthur about how he didn’t want to stop kissing him. But none of that was possible. Merlin tried to shake the memory of Arthur’s clear, cold voice - the one he used with strangers and on TV - telling him they should stop, like it would be the easiest thing in the world. Merlin kicked the arm of the sofa. He couldn’t think about this right now. He could feel his magic burning in his fingers, even after the amount he used earlier. He retreated to his room, and transferred the photos he had taken to his laptop.

He just needed something to focus on. He sorted the photos carefully, and then began combing through them. 

Merlin had heard of absorption magic before. The principle was simple: it was any magic that took the magical energy of others in order to work. But, in practice, it wasn’t common. Merlin’s body felt cold at the idea. Draining the energy of others felt especially cruel, but it seemed to be how the Devourers did everything. There were repeated references to a conduit. Merlin highlighted each reference, trying to shape the disparate bits and pieces of information he found into something that made sense. Everything seemed to tie back to something that had happened a few decades back, but Merlin hadn’t found what they were referencing, yet. Something that didn’t go as it ought to have. All the attacks started after that. Merlin kept going through the photos, until his eyes ached, and he was shivering from the cold. He crawled under his blankets, and tried not to imagine what it would feel like to have Arthur’s warm body pressed against his as he fell asleep. 

In the end it took over a week to sort through all the information, and develop a working theory. Merlin spent most of the time working in his room because reading about the type of magic they were practising sent unshakable chills through him, and he needed to keep his duvet wrapped tightly around him. Not because he was avoiding Arthur. They saw each other in lectures, and meetings with Morgause, but Merlin didn’t linger afterwards, and their communication consisted of emails with datasets, and overly-polite sign-offs. He wasn’t exactly sure what the way forward was, or how to accommodate both the incredible need to be able to talk to Arthur like he had before, and the burning urge to have him in his arms again.

* * *

Arthur had the sneaking suspicion that he’d fucked things up irreparably with Merlin. They’d become friends, regardless of the kissing. He’d expected that things wouldn’t really change if they stopped the kissing parts. Merlin, however, hadn’t even been texting him, and Arthur couldn’t help but feel rejected. Again. So he didn’t reach out either. 

He didn’t like the impact that had on him. The fact that he was no longer really speaking with one person shouldn’t make him feel this alone. He had other friends. He spent far too much time in Percival’s gyms, until his friend gently asked him to leave, since his paying customers were apparently intimidated by Arthur hitting things in the corner during their lessons. He watched bad action movies with Leon, who only asked him what was wrong once a day, but always seemed like he was moments away from asking it again. He studied, and ignored calls from his father’s office. It took an angry text from his sister to make him realise should have brought this issue to Morgana before Merlin in the first place.

Morgana didn’t look surprised when she opened the door to her flat, and saw Arthur standing there. She rarely looked surprised by anything Arthur did. He really should work on that.

“Do you think our father is categorically evil?” he asked. 

Morgana raised her eyebrows at him, before guiding him into her flat, and shutting the door. She pressed the glass of wine she was holding into his hand, and then went to pour herself a new one. 

Morgana’s flat was as immaculate as usual, except for one corner of the living room where a tarp was covering the ground, and there were stacks of wooden crates filled with bits of metal, and a few power-tools that Arthur, frankly, would be frightened to see Morgana use.

“Are you redecorating?” he asked. 

Morgana sat down next to Arthur on the sofa, full glass in hand. “What? Oh, no. That’s Gwen’s stuff. She was paying a ridiculous sum of money to rent out this studio that wouldn’t even allow her to access it half the time. I thought it would be easier for her to just keep what she needed here. Lord knows I have the space. Now, what is this about our father being evil?”

Arthur explained all of it - Gilli’s escape, the lair, the letter that hinted that Uther was involved.

“You know, when I first met Merlin, I was relieved that you’d have someone keeping you in line, but now I realise that the pair of you are equally reckless. It’s a dangerous combination.”

Arthur’s gut twisted at his sister so casually referring to him and Merlin as a pair, as if it just made sense that way. He drank another sip of wine. “That’s what you are hung up on? Morgana, our father may be sponsoring terrorists.”

“Well, that’s easy enough to figure out - and I never put him on a pedestal the way you did. The possibility doesn’t really faze me. But, I agree, if he is behind this, we need to find a way to stop it.” She pulled her laptop out from under a pillow on the sofa, and began pulling up records from what looked to be their father’s accounts. 

“What do you mean, that’s easy enough to figure out?” Arthur asked. 

“I’m in charge of Uther’s charitable organisations, so I have a lot of the information already. The rest of it isn’t that hard to get. He really needs better security, but I’m not going to be the one to tell him that. Not while it serves me.”

His sister really was scarily competent, and Arthur kicked himself for not going to her with this sooner. 

“The money trail isn’t that hard to follow. He tried to transfer the money anonymously through his offshore holdings and shell companies, but I can trace them all back to something called the Gawant Fund. Which… is his. So, yes. Oh. What exactly is this organisation doing?” Morgana looked concerned, despite her earlier statement that Uther’s misdeeds could no longer surprise her.

“They were responsible for the Settgreen Attacks, the May Day massacre, we found evidence of their involvement in practically every magical attack over the past two decades.” Arthur looked down into his wine glass, which Morgana quickly refilled. 

“So Uther’s goal here is to what? Make magic seem… bad. By killing his own citizens?” 

“I suppose that would make the most sense. I doubt he really knew the details. You know how he works.”

Morgana gave him a scrutinising look that hinted that she probably suspected their father of being involved in every dirty detail. The truth was probably somewhere in between, but Arthur just felt exhausted. He was tired of defending his father. He was tired of thinking about how he would live up to his father’s vision, when the truth of his legacy was dark, and covered in blood. He sighed, rubbing his face. 

Morgana shifted on the sofa so she could gently kick him. “Stop thinking like that, you idiot. You aren’t him, and you aren’t responsible for choices he’s made that you had no idea about. You’re better than him, and this is actually good, because this is something you do have the power to change.”

“He doesn’t listen to me.”

“Maybe not. But he doesn’t want this to get out, and he needs you in his life. It’s one thing for him to throw a hissy fit the first time you don’t follow his plan, but as much as he threatens to cut you off, he needs you.”

Arthur shook his head. 

“And if not, we’ll figure it out. Together. I’ll be the brains, and you be the charming smile. Just like always.”

“Thank you,” Arthur said.

“Wait, no - I’m also the charming smile,” Morgana said, and grinned at him as if in demonstration. “What exactly do you bring to this relationship again?”

Arthur threw a pillow at her, which she managed to somehow dodge without spilling a drop of her wine. “I’m the heir to the throne! I think that counts for something.”

“Mm, no, maybe I should have that too,” Morgana replied. 

Arthur threw up his hands. “I’m sure if you actually wanted it, you’d find a way to get it.”

Morgana went to the kitchen to grab another bottle of wine, and Arthur sighed, some of the tension releasing from his shoulders. There was a way forward with this, and he didn’t need Merlin to find it. 

Morgana came back in, and frowned at him. “So, now that I’ve solved that problem for you, why are you still looking like I kicked your dog?”

Arthur clenched his jaw. He was not going to talk to his sister about his feelings. Certainly not when they were so twisted up that he wouldn’t even know how to start.

Morgana had gone back to the kitchen twice more to get more wine, and Arthur had somehow moved to the floor. He was sprawled out with his legs on the sofa, and was wrapping the strands of Morgana’s carpet around his fingers. 

“I think… there’s a slight chance… that I might… be in love,” Arthur said. 

Morgana was looking much more dignified sitting on the sofaarm, although she was swaying a bit, and the pile of curls on top of her head had come undone. 

“With Merlin?” Morgana said.

Arthur frowned.

“Please, you are so transparent.”

“I am not-- transparent.” Arthur said, stumbling a bit over the last word. “Doesn’t matter anyway. He doesn’t want to... learn how to sail anyway.”

Morgana giggled slightly, then turned very serious. “Are you okay with that?”

“No,” Arthur said immediately, and then felt guilty. “I mean… I want to be okay with that. I want to be a friend if not… sailing partners. You know?”

“You should probably tell him that.”

Arthur nodded, and then pulled out his phone. He was vaguely aware of his sister tugging on his arm, and telling him not to say it now. But he was too busy concentrating. He had to close one eye and squint in order to make the text on his screen come into focus, but he was able to type out what he was pretty sure was, “I want to be a good friend”.

* * *

In the end, Merlin convinced himself that it wasn’t fair to Arthur to ignore him just because Merlin wanted him in ways he didn’t want Merlin. And it wasn’t fair to himself to deny himself the one person here he could actually talk to about what was going on just because he was an idiot who had caught feelings when he was explicitly told not to. 

So, two days after Merlin had finally developed a plan to deal with the Devourers, and Arthur had sent him a message saying he wanted to be a good friend, Merlin waited outside of Morgause’s office after their lab meeting until Arthur left.

He put his hands in his pockets, and smiled at Arthur, hoping he wouldn’t just turn the other direction and walk away. Arthur smiled back, and Merlin’s chest felt a bit lighter.

“I, uh, got your message,” he said.

“I will let you know that it was inspired by too much disgustingly-expensive wine, courtesy of my sister,” Arthur said, falling into step with Merlin as they walked out of the building.

“So, that was just the wine, or…”

Arthur rubbed his jaw. “No, I, uh, meant what I said. The sentimentality was the wine, but I do mean it. You’ve been a good friend, and I want to do the same.”

Merlin nodded, and reminded himself that he should be satisfied with this. They walked silently for a few paces.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been a bit of an arse, too,” Merlin said.

“I didn’t say I was an arse--”

“It was implied.”

“Well, while we were both being arses, I discovered my father is the one who’s been funding the Devourers.” 

“Oh. That’s—”

“Morgana and I have a plan. We won’t let him continue this. I promise.”

“I didn’t expect you would,” Merlin said sincerely. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. 

“I assume you also figured some things out?”

Merlin let out a puff of air. That was an understatement. “Yeah - I think I have a solution, too. C’mere.” He tugged Arthur’s arm, and led him to a quieter path, and tried not to think about how much more of Arthur he wanted to touch. 

“Absorption magic is based on the theory that there is a finite amount of magic in the world. That it’s this energy pool that everyone who uses magic can draw from. But I think that’s flawed at its core, right? You heard all the people we interviewed at the fair talk about it, right? What was the one thing they all said?”

Arthur was regarding him carefully. They had stopped walking and he was standing close. “That magic was a part of them.”

“Exactly! It isn’t that people take magic from this single source. I think everyone is magic; that this energy ebbs and flows as people are born, and grow, and change. People who can perform magic aren’t taking, they’re giving - giving this piece of themselves. Except the Devourers don’t do that. All they do is drain magic from others, from artefacts, and that is what they formed to do. They tried to take all the magic from the world, and drain it into this kind of magical conduit that only they could access. They wanted to control it all.”

“That’s what my father wanted,” Arthur said softly. “That’s what he paid them for. But it didn’t work…”

“No, not fully, something went wrong. But it worked in part. I think this is why we’ve seen such a decrease in magic use over the years. It wasn’t just the law. They did drain the magic, just not all of it, and it… it didn’t go into their conduit. It was after that failure that they started the attacks.” He looked at Arthur, unsure if he should continue. The Devourers were acting on outside orders from everything that Merlin had seen, and given what Arthur had said, they probably had been the King’s.

“It makes sense,” Arthur said, not quite meeting Merlin’s eye. “He wanted to control it all, and then, when he couldn’t, he tried to rein it in, and make people fear magic. The regulations and the attacks were the easiest way for him to do that.”

Merlin leaned closer so his shoulder bumped against Arthur’s. 

“It’s logical. Horrific. But logical.” Arthur sighed. “So where did the magic go? And how are you going to reverse the spell?”

And here it was. The part that Merlin was the least sure of. “Er, those two things are connected actually.” He kicked at a rock on the ground. “The spell - they did it on the night I was born. At the same time that I was born. I think… I think maybe I’m the conduit.”

Arthur’s eyes were wide. “But that would mean—”

“It makes sense. All the magic I have, it’s more than anyone else we’ve read about. Even in the past. It’s ‘cause it’s not mine. Not all of it, at least. I can’t control it because it’s too much.”

Arthur shook his head. “It seems like it’s yours. They way you use it—”

“Either way, I’ve got to try to undo this. The spell is pretty simple in reverse. I just need to…. Let it all out of me, put it back in the air, and the earth. It should find who it’s meant to be with after that.”

“When are you going to do it?”

“There has to be a blood moon. It has to be done at midnight. Spells are dramatic like that.”

“When’s the next blood moon?”

Merlin paused. “Tonight?”

“Tonight? Are you sure you’re ready? You just sorted this all out, and honestly, it doesn’t look like you have a really solid grip on what you’re meant to be doing. ‘Just let it out’ doesn’t really seem to be exact instructions.”

“Well, I appreciate your confidence in me,” Merlin said.

“It’s not a lack of confidence, you dolt. It’s trying to be a bit level-headed.”

“Because that sounds like you.”

“All right, then. What can I do to help?”

Merlin blinked at Arthur. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but he should have realised this would be the result. “I, uh, need to go somewhere isolated to do it. Somewhere where people wouldn’t notice an explosion. Not that I think things are going to explode. I just… well. You’ve seen what can happen.” Merlin turned away, hoping Arthur didn’t notice the blush rising on his cheekbones. 

“I know a place we can go. What else?”

“I managed to find the book, and I got all the herbs I need. They mentioned an anchor, someone who was with the caster during the spell who kept him— grounded. I don’t know if I’ll need that—” 

“I’ll do it.”

“Arthur, we don’t know what’s going to happen—”

“My father caused this mess. Please, let me help you undo it.”

Arthur’s gaze was burning into him. This was probably the closest Arthur had ever come to begging. Merlin nodded. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

* * *

Arthur wasn’t sure what he expected an ancient magic ritual to look like. More candles maybe? More goats? Either way, he was certain that a semester studying magic, and knowing Merlin, should have taught him to question these types of assumptions.

He had driven them out to a family property that was isolated and had acres of bare fields far from the main house. Merlin should be able to rain down any type of destruction he needed here. 

Merlin had arranged a large circle of cuttings from juniper bushes in the field, and scratched some runes in the snow, but hadn’t done much else in the way of preparation besides nervously checking the time on his phone. 

At 11:58, he laid the book down, and gave Arthur a shaky smile.

“I, uh, have to—” he shrugged out of his coat, and pulled off his shirt.

Arthur dragged his eyes away from the dragon inked on Merlin’s skin, illuminated by the full moon, but his long neck and lips, glistening from where he had been worrying them between his teeth, weren’t any less of an enticing image.

“Where do you want me?” A question he could have worded better, but Merlin didn’t seem to notice. He settled down in the centre of the circle of juniper.

“I don’t really know what this is going to be like. Just-- behind me, maybe?”

Arthur lowered himself to the cold ground, and spread his legs to either side of Merlin. He didn’t touch him, even though it could be a friendly thing to pat him on the back, reassure him he wasn’t alone. It felt too wrought. 

Merlin took a deep breath and crossed his long legs. He placed his hands on the ground on either side of them. He started speaking softly in a language Arthur didn’t understand. Arthur felt his heart rate increase. He wasn’t scared for himself. Despite Merlin’s warnings, he knew that he wouldn’t hurt Arthur - that his magic wouldn’t hurt Arthur. What he wasn’t certain of was whether this would hurt Merlin. 

Merlin started speaking louder, and Arthur saw all the muscles in his back tighten. The snow beneath his hands had melted, and his whole body seemed to be casting off heat. He stopped speaking suddenly, and took two shaking breaths. Arthur placed one of his hands on Merlin’s arm, slowly. He saw Merlin incline his chin in what he had to guess was his way of saying he was all right.

Arthur started to move his hand back, but Merlin whispered, “Stay close,” and so he did. He pulled Merlin’s warm, and trembling form against his own chest. 

“I have you,” he whispered against his temple. 

Merlin’s eyes opened, wide pools of liquid gold, and he screamed. Arthur fought the urge to lift him from the ground, and run with him over his shoulder, back to the car, and away from whatever was making him cry out.

Dandelions sprouted up from the points where Merlin’s fingers touched the ground. Arthur squeezed him tighter as thunder ripped the sky open above them. The air felt static and alive, and Arthur felt the ground shift beneath them as, a few feet away, it tore open, a tree sprouting tall and full from the previously-barren ground. Lightning flashed around them, and Merlin was still yelling. Arthur placed his hand over Merlin’s heart, glad to feel it beating beneath his fingers. 

The thunder stopped. Merlin closed his eyes, and mouth, and his head fell back against Arthur’s shoulder. Wisps of golden sparks seemed to be flowing gently from his body into the air. Arthur didn’t know how long they sat like that, an hour maybe, until Merlin wrapped Arthur’s hands in his own, and said, “It worked,” before falling asleep against his chest. And that was it. There was no real evidence of what had happened, except a forest where before there had been a field.

Arthur carried him back to the car, and drove him home. Merlin didn’t wake the whole drive back, or when Arthur tucked him into bed. It didn’t feel right leaving him there alone, so Arthur sat down with his back to the wall, where he could watch Merlin’s sleeping form, reassuring himself by watching the gentle rise and fall of Merlin’s chest.

* * *

Merlin woke slowly the next day. His tongue felt dry and big in his mouth, and his skin was still prickling. He didn’t remember too much of the ritual, just the sensation of magic coursing through every part of him - the feeling of being a piece of this glowing mass of energy that connected everything. And the feeling of Arthur’s arms around him, keeping him from getting swept up in it. Bringing him home. 

Merlin laid still for a moment. He didn’t feel any different. He still felt the magic inside himself, or, at least, he thought he did. He tried to gather the courage to try something to see. He cracked open an eye, and tried to float the pen on his nightstand. It responded immediately. Merlin couldn’t help the yell of relief that came out of him.

He heard a crash from the floor, and sat up to see Arthur sitting up suddenly, and hitting his lamp.

“What’s wrong?” 

Merlin laughed, the relief and the exultation from the night before bubbling out. “Nothing. I just-- I still have magic. Look!” He lifted his hand, and one of the pillows from his bed followed suit, slamming against Arthur’s chest. 

“Jesus Christ, people don’t usually use yelling to express happiness. Especially not after going catatonic the night before. I thought maybe—” Arthur shook his head, then threw the pillow back at Merlin. 

“I’m fine. It’s all fine. We did it,” Merlin said, and jumped up. 

“You did it. That was--” Arthur shook his head.

“Thank you,” Merlin hoped that Arthur could hear the weight of the words as he said them. He stepped forward to hug him, but Arthur backed away. Oh, right. Things were still weird. It seemed that whatever had happened last night hadn’t actually done anything to fix the fact that Merlin wanted to keep kissing Arthur, and Arthur… did not. 

Merlin dropped his arms, and nodded as Arthur gave some weak excuse about meeting Leon somewhere, and turned and walked out.

* * *

“I know about the Gawant Fund,” Arthur said simply, after the door to his father’s office was shut behind him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Uther said. He took off his glasses, and placed them at a right angle from his pen.

“I know where the money goes, and I know how it’s being used. How could you do this?” Arthur didn’t sit, even as Uther gestured him towards a chair. He’d had so many conversations in this office where he’d gone along with his father’s wishes. This wasn’t going to be one of them.

“There are many things that are more complicated than you know, Arthur. This is one of them. I’m sure as you get older you’ll begin to understand why—”

“Why you financed attacks on your own citizens? Why you tried to control and manipulate them? Why you tried to suppress something good, and natural, and replace it with cruelty and wrath?”

Uther’s smile was tight and short. “You want to see the world in black and white, but you couldn’t possibly understand what it took for me to make these choices. I stand by them, and I won’t be interrogated by a child.”

Arthur took a breath, and didn’t rise to the bait. He remembered what Morgana had said: he had the leverage. He didn’t need to ask his father why he was an adult who needed to embrace his responsibilities when he was fifteen, but a child who needed to shut up at twenty-three. He didn’t need to debate the intricacies of morality. 

“It stops now. Or I’ll go to the press.” 

“You won’t.”

“I will. I have evidence. I wouldn’t have to be named as the source.” Arthur bristled as his father rose from his seat and walked around the desk towards him, but he stood his ground. 

“Do you think we don’t have a contingency plan for this? I can spin this. In the end, it wouldn’t be more than a week of sensationalised news before things settle back.”

Okay, Phase Two, Arthur thought. “If you don’t stop funding them, I’m walking. You can weather one bad story, but that on top of the Crown Prince abdicating? Is that something your team can weather?”

Uther stepped into Arthur space with a scowl. “You would give up everything for this?”

Arthur took a breath, and met his father’s angry stare. “I would. I’m prepared.”

Uther glared at him for what seemed like ages, before he stepped back, and Arthur knew he had won.

* * *

Arthur didn’t tell Morgana or Merlin right away. He wanted to tell them in person, and he knew Morgana was with Gwen, and things with Merlin still felt weird.

He had arrived home later that night, and poured himself two fingers of whiskey, when Merlin’s name popped up on his phone.

“Hey—” he said.

“Before you say anything sappy or embarrassing, this isn’t Merlin,” Gwaine’s voice interrupted him.

“Is he okay?”

“Lord, he’s fine. Just a little in his cups. He’s insisting that he wants to come see you, and ordinarily I wouldn’t let him ‘til he sobers up. Friends don’t let friends drunk-dial and all that, but I honestly think he might hurt himself climbing out his own damn window, or get lost on the way, if I try to stop him, so we’re on our way. Just giving you fair warning.”

He hung up before Arthur could say anything in response, and then all he could do was await the arrival of a drunk - and apparently insistent - Merlin.

Merlin stumbled into his flat, guided by a more sober, but still clearly-drunk Gwaine. 

“Finally,” Merlin said, “you drive far too slow.”

“We walked,” Gwaine said, and grinned at Arthur, while Merlin laughed into his shoulder. “You’ll take care of him?” 

Gwaine’s grin slipped into a more challenging look that Arthur resented somewhat, but he agreed.

Merlin flung his arms around Gwaine in a dramatic hug. “Thank you,” he said. Arthur tried not to pay the prickles of jealousy twinging in his gut any mind, but they only grew sharper as Gwaine kissed the top of Merlin’s head, and then gently pushed him away. 

The jealousy was soon masked by another flood of emotions, as Merlin wrapped his arms around Arthur’s chest instead. The heat of his body was overwhelming. He smelled like snow, and pine, and Merlin, and it made Arthur’s heart beat painfully in his chest. 

“Thank you,” Merlin said to Arthur this time, before he disentangled his limbs, and said to Gwaine, “He helped me save the world, you know? That’s what we were celebrating.” 

Arthur had no idea how Merlin had managed to keep his magic a secret all this time when this was how he acted when he got a little tipsy. 

“And here I was thinking we were celebrating the fact that it was Wednesday,” Gwaine said. He looked closely at Merlin who was still standing very close to Arthur. “Are you good here?”

“‘M good,” Merlin said. 

“Then that’s my cue,” Gwaine said, and gave an exaggerated bow to Arthur before sauntering back out the door. 

The door shut, and Merlin stumbled against him. Arthur caught him, and he could feel the way Merlin’s smile melted away at his reserve.

He led Merlin towards his room, because Merlin looked to be at the stage of drinking where he should probably be horizontal. Merlin stayed tucked tightly against his side, and when he flopped down against Arthur’s bed, he tugged Arthur down with him expectantly. 

Arthur straightened instead, and worked on taking off Merlin’s boots. It was just the alcohol, he reminded himself. Merlin had made it clear before that he didn’t want Arthur in bed with him anymore. Still, the sight of Merlin in his bed did things to him that he couldn’t contain. He bit his lip, and turned away, but Merlin caught his wrist.

“Stay with me? I came all the way here. C’mon.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, but sat down next to Merlin on the bed. He shifted the other man so he was lying down.

“So why did you come all the way here?” Arthur asked. He knew he shouldn’t pick at this. He was the one who was going to get hurt again, and Merlin’s eyes were already fluttering shut. 

Merlin pressed his face into Arthur’s arm so his words were muffled. “Missed you, obviously,” he said.

“You saw me yesterday,” Arthur corrected.

“Yeah, but I miss you all the time. And I didn’t touch you yesterday. I miss touching you.”

Arthur’s stomach flipped. “Merlin—”

“I miss kissing you. I know you wanted to stop, and I’m sorry, but fuck, I want to kiss you all the time.”

“You wanted to stop,” Arthur corrected. Merlin’s hands were playing with his collar, and it was impacting his ability to think clearly.

“Only cos you said no feelings, and what kind of idiotic robot doesn’t have feelings, especially when you and those fucking lips of yours are involved.” Merlin pointed an accusing finger on where Arthur guessed he thought his lips were.

“So, you didn’t want to stop?”

“‘Course not,” Merlin said, and then pressed a kiss against Arthur’s arm in demonstration. It was messy, and wet, and, shit, Arthur knew he should wait for Merlin to sober up. He shouldn’t have started this conversation now. 

He took a deep breath to get some of his control back, and gave Merlin a chaste kiss on his cheek. Even that felt good, the feel of Merlin’s hot skin against him, the roughness of his stubble. He swallowed. “Tell me that in the morning, and I swear, I will never stop kissing you ever again, if that’s what you want.”

“Fine,” Merlin said, pouting at him in quite a ridiculous manner. But soon his breathing slowed, and he was sleeping soundly, his fingers still curled around Arthur’s jaw.

* * *

Merlin was warm and content in a way he hadn’t been in a long time. He nestled into the feeling, and only stopped when he realised that the warmth he was pressed against was another body. Arthur. Merlin swallowed, and kept his eyes shut as he recalled the previous night, but his stirring had woken Arthur. 

“You hog the bed.” Arthur’s voice was close to his ear.

Merlin flushed, and made a move to sit up. His head spun a bit, and he fell back to the bed. 

“I didn’t say I minded,” Arthur said.

Merlin opened his eyes, and looked at Arthur. His eyes were bleary, but smiling. The sun was hitting his rumpled hair, and his cheeks were delightfully pink. It wasn’t fair, really, that he looked that good first thing in the morning. Merlin’s body pulsed with desire.

Arthur rolled away, and turned to look at him. “You said something last night,” Arthur said. “Did you mean it?”

Merlin’s heart was beating fast as his memories of the previous night cleared in his head. 

Arthur was grinning now, and Merlin rubbed his face in relief. 

“I think I remember you saying you never wanted to stop kissing me,” Merlin said.

“Mm, no, no, that was definitely you,” Arthur said. He shifted so he was leaning over Merlin, his eyes fixed on his lips.

“Oh, right, you just made me a solemn promise that you’d kiss me forever if I wanted it.”

“You were drunk. Did you mean it?” Arthur was inches from him now. Merlin could see the faint line of freckles across his nose.

“I did. Did you?” he leaned up towards Arthur, who responded by gently kissing his lips.

“I did, too.”

The kissing was tender, as though Arthur wasn’t quite sure whether it was real, and was afraid that any sudden movements might break the moment. Merlin wasn’t sure himself, to be quite honest. Everything was golden in the morning sun, and Arthur’s hands running over his chest felt like they were out of a dream.

“There’s a chance,” Arthur said, as he kissed a line of wet kisses down Merlin’s neck, and across the tattoo on his chest, “that we are both very big idiots.”

Merlin laughed, and dragged his fingers through the soft strands of Arthur’s hair, pulling him back into a kiss. He pushed against Arthur, and flipped him so he could straddle him. He leaned down, and kissed him harder as the movement created just enough friction to make them both moan. 

“Fuck, Arthur,” Merlin said running a hand down his arm, and grasping his hand. Arthur’s hands felt cool against the burn in his fingers. Arthur thrust against him as Merlin pushed and held their hands together tightly over his head. He leaned back down so he could kiss his neck and whisper against his skin, “God, you look so good like this.” 

Arthur’s kiss was frantic. Merlin fumbled to get their pants below their hips, groaning unabashedly at the heat of Arthur’s hard cock against his own. He had the brief thought that he should be savouring this moment, but it felt too good. Arthur’s whimper as Merlin wrapped his hand around both of them was too needy. 

They finished together, out of breath with hands grasped tightly, and foreheads pressed together. 

“Okay, yeah,” Merlin said, “we aren’t stopping that anytime soon.”

Arthur let out a huff of laughter. “Promise me,” he said.

“I promise,” Merlin said, and the words fell out of him with the easy weight of the absolute truth.


End file.
